


You Are The Perfect Drug

by fabricdragon



Series: You are the Perfect Drug [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Mycroft, Alpha Sebastian Moran, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Sherlock, Bigotry & Prejudice, But He Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, Cultural References, Gender Roles, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, Language, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Mycroft Being a Bastard, Omega Jim, One-Sided Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Politics, Prison, Relationship(s), Research, Social Issues, Tags Are Hard, and then better, and then worse, secretly an Omega, secrety an Omega, seriously everything i write turns innto psychology studies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2018-10-07 09:32:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 61,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: Based on a plot prompt mickie and i were discussing: a secretly Omega Jim Moriarty goes into heat (or out of suppression anyway) under interrogation and Alpha Mycroft gets affected.Naturally i gave this my own spin (and everything i write turns into sociology and psychology anyway).There are some things i cannot tag properly in this story  because of spoilers.





	1. Pick Up The Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mickie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickie/gifts).



“The X and Y chromosomes determine a person’s Primary Sex. Most women are 46XX and most men are 46XY. However, in a few births per thousand some individuals will be born with a single sex chromosome (45X or 45Y) (sex monosomies) and some with three or more sex chromosomes (47XXX, 47XYY or 47XXY, etc.) (sex polysomies). In addition, some males are born 46XX due to the translocation of a tiny section of the sex determining region of the Y chromosome. Similarly some females are also born 46XY due to mutations in the Y chromosome. In addition to these genetic issues, there are individuals born with the usual 46XY, but possessed of Androgen insensitivity Syndrome–which prevents the development of male sexual characteristics–so that the individual will present as female to most physical exams. Clearly, there are not only females who are XX and males who are XY, but rather, there is a range of chromosome complements, hormone balances, and phenotypic variations that determine Primary Sex.

“When you add in the complications of the Secondary Sex of Alpha, Beta, or Omega, the range of sex and gender variants becomes inordinately complex.” – World Health Organization

  **-**

“As the population explodes worldwide, the proportion of Alpha and Omega to Beta skews more and more in favor of the Beta. Male Omegas–and the even rarer Female Alpha–capable of both fertilizing a female and being fertilized by a male are no longer an asset to a threatened human population, but a threat in an overpopulated world. It is only in primitive circumstances, remote tribes, and the equally out of the norm noble families, that the Alpha/Omega continue to be more than an unwanted medical anomaly.” – On the Threat of the Secondary Gender (Paper presented to the Council On Population Control, June 1987)

 -

“Women may be murdered with impunity, but God forbid anyone damages an Omega. Their pheromones allow them a protection not accorded to merely being female, and as such I do not consider them part of our global fight for equality.” – Speaker on Feminism at the Symposium for Equal Rights responding to a question about Omega rights.

“I get shit thrown at me for being a Male Omega every day, and would be executed in some places just for existing. My protection is limited to being owned by an Alpha because of what I am. A Beta Female can go almost anywhere in the world, go into any profession–hell in most places they can join the army–but as an Omega Male I’m relegated to gender roles that even most women would consider limiting… all because of something I had no choice over. If it weren’t for suppressants–which were illegal to get without my Alpha’s permission until quite recently–I couldn’t even go outside unattended because an Alpha can rape me and get off just because he was ‘overwhelmed by my pheromones’. At least a Beta has to get drunk, or wander down a dark alley, or do something risky. I could be assaulted on live television in a church and most juries wouldn’t convict.” – Anonymous commenter on a news story about Omega rights.

 -

From the Science Of Deduction Blog:

“At this point in time, Betas are the overwhelming majority of the population. Alphas and Omegas combined make up less than ten percent of the population worldwide, with Alphas outnumbering Omegas by at least two to one.” – Excerpt from a High School biology textbook.

Completely incorrect. The sales of Omega suppressants alone, now that they are legal in most Western countries, indicate an Omega population of approximately ten percent of the population in the city of London. Now while you may certainly consider that Omegas seeking independence will migrate to the larger cities, it still implies a higher number. The fact is that the number of Alphas in the British military is estimated at twenty-two percent overall (with concentrations in the more lethal and aggressive fields, of course). Add in the noble households, in which the majority of the population are Alpha or Omega, and it becomes evident that the number in England is closer to thirty percent of the population. Yes, the majority of that number would be Alphas.

As to the noble registries: the noble families almost exclusively seek out Omega and Alpha spouses to maintain their bloodlines, and at least document those numbers in their genealogy, but unwanted Betas, and infertile Omegas, have routinely disappeared from the registries–sometimes murdered, other times simply sent into anonymous exile. The only thing we can determine with certainty from the bloodline registries is that the proportion of Betas in the general population is increasing, while the available unrelated Alphas and Omegas appear to be decreasing.

The fact that the numbers of Alphas and Omegas are not being accurately counted in even the bureaucracy obsessed countries such as England makes it impossible to apply scientific study to this topic.

The only certainty is that there are still enough Alphas and Omegas in the populations of the Western world to make the marketing of neutral body wash, hormone suppressants, and similar products profitable.


	2. Unraveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Omegas are protected in most of the Western world under special chapters of the Geneva Convention, as well as notable mandates in most legal systems. Historically, this was because Omegas were prized by conquerors as slaves and war brides, and too valuable to be damaged–as well as the fact that an Omega mate was a superlative hostage against their Alpha’s good behavior.   
> “Debate over whether this should be continued in modern times has always ended up with military advisors pointing out that wounded or injured Omega pheromones cause Alphas to go feral. Since Alphas are over-represented in most militaries, it simply makes sense to ensure Omegas are treated with the utmost care in order to maintain discipline.  
> “The issue of forced bonding and assaults on Omegas by military and law enforcement personnel has been a problem from earliest history, and in England is dealt with by insisting that no Omega may be held in any facility without observation and representation by the Ministry of Omega Rights and Safety.” – An Overview of the Ministry Of Omega Rights and Safety (MORS)

Mycroft was called in to interrogation unexpectedly. For a moment he hoped for good news, but no such luck. The alert code indicated a problem–another problem–with Moriarty, but didn’t specify what, which meant he had to go troubleshoot yet another novel problem with their most important guest. He put away his work and walked down to the interrogation cells.

He’d started working in his office in that building to save time. Truthfully, the last few nights he’d slept in the secure guest rooms. The information they needed was critical and they were running out of time. If he held out for just a few more days, they’d be forced to give in to his demands just to get the information in time. He’d consulted with Sherlock and gotten consent, but it made him uneasy.

“What is it this time?” Mycroft snapped as he came in.

“That’s just it, Sir. We don’t know, but the interrogators have been having breakdowns.”

“Again?”

The technician–Whitman–frowned at the equipment and monitors. “No matter how much we replay the tapes, we can’t figure it out. He wasn’t doing any new deductions or threats, and most of the interrogators cannot explain the problem, just a ‘sense of unease’ or panic attacks.”

Mycroft sharpened at that. “The last drug we used… didn’t it cause panic?”

“Supposedly, yes.”

“Could there be trace quantities in the interrogation room?”

The idiot looked struck by the obvious idea. “There shouldn’t be, but we can move him to a new one.”

“Move him, try again.”

They arranged it. Mycroft didn’t bother going back to work: he wanted to see what was happening. There shouldn’t be any residue in the room, but it was the simplest explanation. He sighed. _It probably wasn’t that simple_.

They dragged Moriarty in and started the preparation; Mycroft watched from the observation room. Moriarty looked the same as always: untouched by whatever they did to him; amused; indifferent. Even when they had him screaming, he recovered as soon as they stopped and immediately started interrogating the interrogators. Mycroft felt a headache coming on again. _They were getting nowhere._

Two of his best people went in… Moriarty just laughed at them–nothing unusual–but… they were acting off… They hit him a few times and became increasingly uneasy: Sorgenson was the first one out, he almost ran… Once he left, Geivens had to stop and leave as well, although he looked less affected. _That was peculiar as hell._

Moriarty rolled his neck and shoulders and looked at the glass, “Are you watching, Iceman? If this is supposed to confuse me to death, it’s working, but it still won’t get you answers–you know what I want.”

He called in Sorgenson. The man was still damp–he’d run right into the showers. _He was agitated, almost panicky, he was feeling… guilty? Sorgenson could peel a man’s skin off and not feel guilty!_

“I don’t KNOW why, Sir,” he said sullenly, “but I won’t go back in there.”

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. _The man honestly didn’t know what was wrong, but something was._ He certainly hadn’t been able to figure it out from observation. _I’ll have to go talk to him again, and it always makes my headache worse. This is probably our last chance; after this, I’ll have to give him what he wants and he knows it._ He walked around and down the hallway to the secured door. Shaking his head he keyed in his code and walked in…

_Distressed Omega!_

_Wounded Omega!_

Mycroft’s last coherent thought was that Moriarty looked equally stunned as Mycroft’s Alpha pheromones flooded the room.

*

Jim woke up in a post-coital haze the likes of which he hadn’t had in years. Someone was lying heavily on his back, and he was… on concrete? Jim wracked his brain for data and _… Interrogation, he had been in interrogation… Iceman had come in…_

Memories poured back. _Alpha pheromones, massively high amounts of Alpha pheromones… Mycroft was an Alpha, of course he was, but with his suppressants that shouldn’t… he shouldn’t even NOTICE! He invented those suppressants himself!_

_Wait._

_The last week the interrogators had been acting really strangely. They were likely Betas, most people were Betas, but… If he was giving off wounded Omega pheromones, even a Beta tended to back off… and an Alpha…_

_His suppressants must have failed. Why?_ A moment’s thought gave him the answer: _a combination of survival needs under interrogation–his body trying to defend itself–and the drugs._

_So then Mycroft had come in, and of COURSE posh old school three piece suit Holmes was an Alpha like his brother._

Jim started laughing a bit hysterically. _Mycroft had come in and reacted to the scent of distressed Omega with no warning by going full-on feral Alpha._ Jim vaguely recalled whining at the Alpha for protection, Mycroft snarling at the guards, and then fucking his brains out.

 _No, no nononono! I got the wrong one!_ How the hell would he control MYCROFT? Sherlock would have been easy enough: he had friends to threaten, if nothing else. Jim tried to kick Mycroft off of him and felt Mycroft wake up.

_Protect/security/confusion/trap?_

_Wait, how did I feel THAT?..._ Jim dropped his head down to the concrete. _God exists and has a SICK sense of humor._ _They were bonded. Fucking God Damn Hell, I’m BONDED to Mycroft Holmes._

~

Mycroft came to with his Omega kicking him. He must be lying too heavily on them…

_Wait… Why was his Omega on cold concrete? It was cold in here! His Omega should be warm, and where was the food?_

_Re-assess: Interrogation room, Moriarty?! He had somehow manufactured fake Omega chemicals?_

_He was lying on, and in, Moriarty, who smelled… He was bonded, he was an Omega and bonded… No…He was MY Omega…_

Mycroft closed his eyes and started cursing in every language he knew, in alphabetical order.

“When you’re done with that, Alpha, do you suppose you could get me a blanket and some food?” Jim’s voice had a faint quaver in it. Mycroft was off of him and helping him up before he could think.

Jim turned into his chest and started sniffling. “Help me?”

Mycroft picked him up, trying to get his knowledge that this was Moriarty to work against his instincts saying this was his Omega and he had to protect them. Mycroft was holding him carefully, trying to find out where his clothing had gone, part of his mind cursing the fact that there wasn’t a blanket in sight.

“You’re warm,” Jim sniffled into his chest. “Why were you hurting me?”

Mycroft forced his brain into gear. “Because you’re a terrorist, murderer, and general problem and you should have been shot like a rabid dog a long time ago,” Mycroft growled, but he was still holding Jim bridal style against his chest.

Jim tilted his face up, bruised and dark circles under his eyes, blood staining his lips, and he smiled faintly. He purred into Mycroft’s ear as he buried his head against his neck, “You’re quite right, Alpha, but you’ll never be able to prove it. Not with me being proven to be a poor, helpless, abused Omega.” Jim licked a stripe up Mycroft’s neck, and he pulled Jim in tighter. “You held me prisoner, abused me, and bonded me, Mycroft…”

“No one knew you were an Omega!” Mycroft hissed at him, pulling him against his hip and hitting the override codes to let them out.

“And when I cry in front of the Jury, the doctors?”

“You…”

“I wouldn’t have minded so much if it had been Sherlock, darling, but I’m going to have to get RID of you…” His voice was like honey and poison.

Mycroft turned the showers on warm, put Jim down and hauled them both in. Jim purred up against him under the warm spray.

 _He thinks Sherlock is an Alpha? Oh…_ “Sherlock is a Beta, James.”

~

Jim snapped his head up. “NO!” _Not Sherlock! Sherlock was an Alpha–HIS Alpha! The only one who understood him!_

“If I had known you were an Omega I could have figured it out, your obsession with him.” Mycroft held him upright in the showers. Jim was finally feeling warm again for the first time in who knew how long. “Of course you assumed he was an Alpha, everyone expected it,” Mycroft said sourly.

“He’s an Alpha! You both are!” Jim’s voice was shaking but he was furious.

“Sherlock is a Beta; our father couldn’t stand it and threw him out. Noble blood lines being what they are, Father expected an Alpha or an Omega. When he wasn’t? When he declared that he wouldn’t even TRY to see if a doctor could ‘fix’ the problem–as if it needed to be fixed–he tossed him out on the street. He may have been using by then, but that was when he became a junkie. I was out of the country, and Mummy never could argue with him,” Mycroft said bitterly.

“That’s not true!”

“The facts will not change for you,” Mycroft snapped tensely.

“I DON’T WANT YOU!” Jim screamed.

Mycroft’s lips pulled back in a snarl as he shoved the pained feeling aside and growled, “The feeling is mutual, but we’re stuck.”

“I take SUPPRESSANTS for this! It’s your damned drugs that did this, FIX it.”

Mycroft laughed bitterly, “Please fix it for me? Isn’t that your line?”

Jim’s strike didn’t cripple him only because of how weak he was at the moment, but he tried. Mycroft staggered and followed after him. The doors out of the showers were locked. Jim had just managed to figure out the codes when Mycroft grabbed him.

“We just showered off the worst of the pheromones, and most of the guards are Beta, naturally. If you did manage to get out, you’d be shot.”

“What makes you think I give a damn?!”

“I have no idea,” Mycroft snarled and dragged him to the lockers, throwing a pair of institutional drawstring pants and a shirt at him, and pulling on a set himself.

“It doesn’t suit me,” Jim sniffed. “For that matter, it doesn’t suit you.” He looked Mycroft over.

“Of course not, but my suit is currently in pieces in the interrogation room, and likely bagged for evidence by now.”

“What?” Jim stared at him. “Who would bag it? Everyone was gone?” _Oh shit, oh shit, how far has this GONE?!_

_~_

Mycroft stared at him. _Of course he didn’t know the routines, and he was certainly not well after weeks in interrogation._ “No one was ‘gone’, James. It’s simply that disturbing an Alpha protecting a wounded Omega is a lethal mistake. Disturbing an Alpha/Omega pair in that condition would get anyone arrested, assuming the pair in question didn’t rip them apart.

“Your interrogations are fully filmed, naturally, and there are observers in other areas with monitors. There will be people out there waiting for us to come out, at which point things are going to get extremely unpleasant.”

Jim’s started snarling and cursing, he finally ended up sagging into a wall. “Fuck you, fuck my life, fuck England, fuck goddamn BIOLOGY!” he spat the last out with venom. “You better hope you don’t have any leaks, Mycroft, because if the wrong people in my network find out I’m an Omega? It will be a blood bath.”


	3. I don't know where you're taking me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Omegas of either Sex are, by virtue of their delicate nature, nurturing instincts, and gentler disposition, unsuited to the strenuous life of business to a degree exceeding even Beta women. Anyone who imagines that any Omega, even one whose primary gender is Male, can be expected to manage their own affairs is cruel or deluded.” – Excerpt from ‘On the Gentler Sexes’ publication date 1916
> 
> “It is a sad fact that the primary gender dictates a great deal about the acceptance of Alpha and Omega traits. A Female Omega is a prized creature who can be swept up out of the gutter to be a princess, as we see in so many fairy tales such as Cinderella, where Ella’s Omega nature speaks of her inherent nobility–in opposition to her Beta step-sisters–and wins her a Prince. By contrast, an Alpha Female was often put to death as being ‘unnatural’ despite it being every bit as natural as being an Omega.” – Fairy Tales and Gender Politics

Mycroft was certain that the situation outside was under control–after all no one had tried to break in on them at any point– he simply didn’t trust it to STAY that way for very long.  He got a grip on James and opened the door, as expected there were some very nervous guards, and– thank heavens– Anthea.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Anthea must have been called in from the middle of something, and of course she sounded deeply concerned.

“Ah, the Chelsea case?” Mycroft nodded, “Yes, I’m alright, and calm enough to move the two of us as long as no one gets too close, I expect.” He didn’t dare say anything else in public but she simply nodded and indicated that he should follow her.

James was walking next to him as though he was a king, and Mycroft’s hand on his arm, and the guards, were being duly ignored. Mycroft noted with relief that the guards kept their distance.

They got into a secure elevator, Anthea staying near the controls, Mycroft moving James to the back, and staying between them by instinct.  She stopped the elevator part way up. She watched them in the mirror over the controls, never turning to face them. _So she was trained in how to handle a feral or defensive Alpha, possibly even a newly Bonded pair? Did this happen much in interrogation?_ Jim wondered… _Oh, I suppose threatening one side of the Bond would work pretty well…._

“You do seem saner than Doctor Melton suggested you would be.  Instructions, Sir?”

Jim was watching her curiously. He’d always ignored her as a sort of high security PA, but there was something… Could it be…?

“Much as I’d like to snap his neck, I can’t.” Mycroft growled, “I can’t permit you to, either.”

“I’m not that easy to kill, darling.” Jim purred up at him, “And if you were going to kill me you wouldn’t have wasted all this time trying to question me.”

“He’s ACTUALLY an Omega?” She sounded hopeful, like this was going to turn out to all be a trick.  _Wish it was, sweetheart, I wish it was._

“Unfortunately.”

“And you two?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, your mother will be pleased.” She said in her infuriatingly bland and professional voice, starting the elevator up again, “even if the prime minister is going to try to have your head.”

Mycroft actually sagged slightly into Jim. “Oh no, that’s entirely unacceptable. We have to resolve this before it gets to Mummy.”

Jim rather felt as though he’d missed a critical briefing. “Care to fill me in, darling? Or do you want to wait until I’m asking ‘Mummy’ about inheritances?” he timed it, watching the lights in the elevator

Mycroft was clearly about to kill him when the door opened. Jim put on his best frightened innocent look.

Anthea walked along ahead of them, two guards were the only ones in sight.  They were in a much nicer part of the building– it had carpeting, so not designed to clean up blood like his level.  They were escorted into what looked like a small apartment, without windows, and with a highly secure door.  A nervous looking administrative sort was looking at the floor and trying not to stare at them both.

“Mr. Holmes, Sir? Everything is on lock down, but I don’t…” his eyes caught suddenly and he stared at Jim. “Should he be on this level?”

 _Someone was looking at his Omega! Threat! New Bond response– override._   Mycroft was preparing to retort when James produced a gun that he clearly couldn’t have had and shot the man cleanly in the head.

Anthea spun with a gun in hand, staring at him before she glanced at Mycroft and dropped her eyes, the gun didn’t waver.

“Oh, she’s gooooood.” Jim looked admiring at her. “Your lover I take it?” _Oh yes, definitely she was.  She’s a Bond threat she’ll have to die. No, why? I want to get rid of him_. Jim beat his instincts down.

Mycroft was frozen _. How the hell did he get a gun? Where? Why shoot HIM?_

“Go ahead and shoot me, darling,” James laughed, “I’m sure the reflex response would have him rip your head off.”

Mycroft carefully moved his hand away from James’ arm. “Don’t…” _Not Anthea, dear God not Anthea, he’d been careless and somehow he’d gotten a gun and if anything happened…_

“Shoot her? I won’t, assuming she puts her gun away.”

Anthea looked tense, but she slowly put the gun back in its holster under her jacket.  James smirked. “Cute, for a Beta. I take it Mummy wouldn’t approve?” much to Mycroft’s shock James handed him the pistol. _James must have terrifying levels of control; she aimed a weapon at him and she lived.  It made no sense._

Anthea looked equally shocked. “No, nor would several other people of importance.” She looked at Mycroft again, clearly expecting him to explain.

“I’m afraid that Moriarty’s behavior is as difficult to understand as ever.” Mycroft was looking puzzled from Jim to the dead man and back. He addressed Jim, “I have no idea how you got a gun, but I frankly would have expected you to shoot me, not him. Why?”

“As you said, Iceman, we’re stuck. Sadly, while the idea of shooting you right now appeals, I think politics will have to come first.” _I’ll take the first opportunity to shoot you, promise._

“Are you SURE he’s an Omega?” Anthea asked dubiously, “It’s not just some kind of chemical trick?”

Mycroft muttered, “I’m quite certain.”

Jim laughed, “Omegas are far more than their public reputation, sweetheart, but we don’t have time for a chat.” He leaned into Mycroft and Mycroft put an arm around him. Both of them relieved by the contact.

“As to why I shot him? He was a threat.”

“New Bond, of course, he stared at you–” Mycroft frowned, _don’t be idiotic_ , he told himself, _that wasn’t right._ “Anthea looked at you, even held a gun on you, and you never twitched. What’s different?”

“I told you, Mycroft, we have a problem.  As bigoted as the some of the mainstream governments are about Omegas, poor witless things that we are,” he said sarcastically, “the criminal world is worse.  While some of them know better, there are far too many who simply will not listen to a woman at all, and that goes triple for an Omega male– given the bias against Omegas or gays.  What do you think would happen if it got out that James Moriarty, criminal mastermind, is a male Omega?”

Anthea’s eyes widened. “Sir?  The various factions would be at each other’s throats.”

Mycroft suddenly saw it and cursed his muddled thinking for missing it before. James was right, if this got out in an uncontrolled fashion it would be a bloodbath. He might wish to destroy a lot of the criminal organizations out there, but not by having them all explode into violence! Mycroft pulled Jim back into the chair with him as he sat down.  Jim curled obligingly on his lap– it felt right, he hated it. “Of course.”

“Chemicals making a mess of your thinking, Mikey?” Jim sighed, “I can’t be too surprised, it’s causing me no end of trouble.” _Like the fact that you’re warm, and comfortable, and I should be planning– not going to sleep and trusting my Alpha to take care of it._

“So why him? One of your spies?”

“No, sadly, if it was one of MY spies I could handle him.  He works for the CIA, and passes me information on the side, so completely untrustworthy.”

Jim’s head fell into the crook of Mycroft’s neck. “Sorry, but the lack of food and torture seems to have taken a bit out of me.” He paused, “we need to come up with a story…”

“Anthea, get this covered up quietly, and get some soup, Jim would have been given his meal today by now except for this.”  Mycroft sighed, knowing they’d kept him underfed and dehydrated to further muddle his thinking. He wanted to feed his Omega, but too much too quickly and he’d just be sick.

Anthea spun on her heel and went into the kitchenette, texting. _Useful girl,_ Jim thought _, and all my instincts saying she’s a threat to my Bond and I should have shot her.  Biology!_

Mycroft found himself petting down Jim’s back while waiting for the soup, and forced himself to stop.  James wasn’t complaining… he was unconscious, _ah_.  Yes this was likely the most activity he’d had in weeks, and no food… the Alpha instincts were screaming at him that he was a horrible, horrible mate, and that he had to get his Omega warm, and fed, and kill all of the jailors for mistreating him.

Mycroft rubbed his forehead.

After a while, Anthea came in with a cup of soup and hesitantly held it out.

“I’m sorry, my heart.” Mycroft said sadly, forcing himself to reach out and caress her hand even though his instincts wanted her to leave. “It’s certainly nothing I chose.”

“At least you haven’t tried to kill me.”

“You? Never!” he smiled sadly at her, “New Bond aggression is usually over with in a day, but given his current condition, I expect I will be defensive for longer.  At least I seem to be stable.”

“I’m shocked he didn’t shoot me.” She glanced at the infamous man lying unconscious in Mycroft’s arms. “He doesn’t look like much of a threat right now, admittedly.”

“I’m sure he’s completely harmless– while he’s unconscious.” Mycroft said drily.  She smiled wanly back at him.

Mycroft took the soup and carefully woke James up. “Can you drink some? If you can we can avoid an IV.”

“Your boys messed up my arms anyway.” He muttered. It was true; his arms were bruised and cut.

“I thought newly Bonded Omegas were incoherent…” Anthea sighed, “And Alphas were downright feral.”

“I’m hardy typical.” Mycroft smirked at her while carefully feeding soup to Jim.

“I’m not going to bother play-acting for you, I’m too tired.” Jim’s voice was fading.

She looked at him briefly and shrugged. “Why didn’t you shoot me?”

“I need Mycroft to fix this mess and get me out of here.” He lifted his eyes and looked at her, she shivered violently when she met his eyes, “You’re useful, and he loves you.  Shooting you right now would be counterproductive.”  Mycroft felt a chill, even as Jim finished his soup and curled into his chest. “Continue to be useful, and you keep breathing.”

Jim slipped into unconsciousness, lying curled against Mycroft’s chest, far too light, far too cold, far too thin– wounded and battered…

Mycroft had the certain knowledge that the smartest thing to do would be to shoot him right now, before he woke up.

He gave one last pained look at Anthea, and carried James to bed.


	4. I got my heart but my heart's no good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alphas and Omegas both have gender traits beyond the obvious. My field of study is in the differences in vocalizations that come with secondary gender traits. Most people are aware that many Alphas have a commanding voice– that’s extra harmonics produced exclusively by a mature Alpha, similar to a lions roar. Not every Alpha develops the secondary harmonics, but the majority do have it to some extent.  
> “The curious thing is that Omegas also have an extra harmonic range, but the number that seems able to access it is decreasing– at this point it may be around thirty percent. Alpha vocalizations are simpler, expressing dominance and causing people to find them more intimidating, but the Omega vocalizations are much subtler, causing reactions raging from fear and panic, to an intense urge to defend. I have often wondered if all the legends of entrancing songs, controlling sirens, and hypnotic singing trace back to the harmonics produced by an Omega…” – excerpt from TED talk “ On The Power of Voice” by Dr. Brandon Mimurson

Mycroft ended up curled up in bed with his Omega–he once again cursed biology and envied his brother for being a Beta. As an Alpha, he wanted to protect Jim, care for Jim, and prove he was a good protector and provider; as Mycroft Holmes, he wanted to break his neck.

He woke him up several times, just enough to feed him more soup. In the morning, Anthea brought more fresh food and fruit, as well as the day’s messages. It was as bad as expected. Several of the interrogators were unable to work, the handful that had found out Jim was an Omega were in counseling and might never work again–except for Geivens, who was perfectly fine with it, which was sending up all sorts of red flags.

The Prime Minister was calling, as were two members of Parliament, and two other “minor bureaucrats” were trying to contact him: one was likely a genuine question about whether he needed to take on some of Mycroft’s work; the other was trying for his job.

And he was still fighting the urge to kill everyone who had harmed his Omega.

At least Jim was still sleeping, having been sleep deprived for far too long. Mycroft locked the bedroom door and went to talk to some people in the sitting room.

~

Jim woke up–again–this time to the sound of angry voices. Growing up in his household Jim had learned that angry voices were a threat, and to be under the bed hiding before you even woke up. Later on, angry voices meant abusive pimps, rival crime lords, and other threats, so the reflexes stuck around.

After a few minutes, he came out from under the bed and grabbed an orange. Moving to the door, he was surprised he could hear it so clearly…

_I can’t: I’m getting some of it through the Bond, curse it._

Mycroft was being harassed by a bunch of idiot politicians… who wanted Moriarty turned over immediately? And wanted to fire Mycroft, or arrest him?

Jim thought carefully. One of his strong points had been the ability to change plans on a whim, after all. It was no work at all to override the lock on the bedroom: it wasn’t meant to keep anyone in–this was a secure room for guests, not prisoners, after all.

~

“Alpha?” The quavering voice from the doorway interrupted everything.

Mycroft just had time to look around before Jim was pressed up against his back, arms around him, shaking. The smell of distressed Omega–wounded Omega–was fainter than yesterday, but still sent him reeling. The other people in the room–an Alpha-heavy mixture of Alphas and Betas–reacted instantly, backing away, looking for threats, the Alphas all getting defensive.

One of the MPs, who had been insisting Mycroft turn the faker over to be questioned by competent interrogators–like the military–was staring in shock.

Jim whined–with the full harmonics that not even all Omegas were capable of–and Mycroft’s brain shut down.

Mycroft came to again in the bedroom pressing Jim down into the bed. _Blink-blink-blink… Memory? Carrying Jim into the bedroom… Growling at the Prime Minister… What?_

Jim was lying curled up in his arms. “That… was surprisingly sexy, actually,” he said in a conversational tone. “I suppose that’s the hormones talking again.”

“Why did you do that?” Mycroft tried to be angry and didn’t have the energy.

“Fastest way to shut down the kangaroo court, darling,” Jim said calmly, but he still smelled wounded. “I just proved that I’m a poor abused Omega, and we’re Bonded, and the Alphas–at least–are going to be utterly unable to argue it.”

Mycroft had to admit that was true. “I thought you didn’t want anyone to know?”

“Too late. If they’re here, word already got out: therefore, I changed the plans.”

“That fast?”

Jim smiled a dark vicious smile up at him, “Oh, Honey–I’m BEYOND fast.”

Mycroft felt a flash of jealousy, possessiveness, and lust, and fought it back down. “Care to fill me in? Seeing as I just threatened the Prime Minister and a few others.”

“Bah, you defended your newly Bonded Omega, and they would all have to testify I was wounded and frightened.”

“You are not frightened!”

Jim’s eyes got big, and his lip quivered and he looked panicked and small–then he snickered and it was gone. “Prove it.”

Mycroft had to admire his acting skills, but he returned to the question. “New plan?”

“I’m just the front man for Jim Moriarty. The Real Moriarty is of course an Alpha–or Beta; it might be better if he is supposed to be a Beta–but I was the one who met with people if someone had to. It won’t hold up to my top level people, but they’ll keep their mouths shut, especially if I can get word to them fast.”

Mycroft thought. _Yes, it would work: as an Omega Jim would be easily believed to have been a pawn._ “So, who’s the real mastermind?”

“Ideally, one of my trusted seconds,” Jim shrugged, “although we can make up a relative, which might make more sense. A big brother?” he smirked at Mycroft.

Mycroft immediately picked it up. “Your big brother wanted to keep you safe, of course: an Omega younger brother is a target and a prize for rivals, so you’ve been on suppressants and he kept you where he could keep an eye on you.” He nodded, “You had guards, and few people saw you anyway…”

Jim grinned up at him, “Which worked beautifully until you picked up the infamous Jim Moriarty and found out–after I’d been hurt.”

Mycroft sighed in a resigned fashion. “It will work, of course.”

“My plans always work.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “Unless your plans were to be tortured until you could force me to bond you, I doubt it.”

Jim laughed, “Well, it’s my plan NOW, so, yes, it was my plan and it worked… The fact that it wasn’t my plan then is irrelevant, darling,” Jim’s eyes glittered. “The trick is to be able to rework your plans as needed.”

“And it gives me a supposed leash on your organization, even if not as good as having the ‘real’ mastermind.” Mycroft sighed again. _It would work–only if I stayed bonded to Jim._

“I know a lot, of course, since people talk in front of me, and my brother told me enough to be his mouthpiece.” Jim smirked, “Mind you, he’s furious and is trying to spin this into having a leash on you–or writing me off.”

Mycroft glared at him, “You come out of this well.”

 _No, I don’t._ “So do you, Iceman darling. Fetch your ex-lover in to make notes: I have to give you the details of that terrorist attack you’ve been angling after.”

“EX-lover?”

“You two are going to have to either be insanely discreet, or quit seeing each other,” Jim shrugged, “at least until the attention dies down. After all, you already arranged to have an Omega interrogated.”

“No one knew!”

“Which will not be believed if you are cheating on your Bond-mate right away, will it? Consider how it would LOOK,” Jim frowned. _Besides, I might have to kill her if I smelled her on you._

~

Anthea was going to kill one of them, or both of them. Oh they got more out of Moriarty in that half hour session than they had in the entire time he’d been in custody… but he and Mycroft were leaping ahead on plans and discussions so fast she couldn’t follow it, trading barbs and insults and making sarcastic comments at each other. She’d been happy about it at first, that they seemed to be at each other’s throats…

Until she realized they weren’t.

They were snarling at each other ABOUT the work, their plans, and all the stupid MPs and crime bosses they had to deal with, but the closest they came to snarling AT each other was still blunted. Oh, lots of “We’re stuck with each other” and “I’m no happier about this than you are!” but nothing personal.

She took notes mechanically as she realized they weren’t going to be able to break this.

~

“Now I need to make phone calls and get into a computer,” Jim snapped.

“I’ll give you limited access to–” Mycroft began and Jim cut him off.

“An untapped line–and not yours.” Jim raised an eyebrow at him challengingly.

“You HAVE to be joking.”

“I need to contact people to play this from my side, if I don’t do it SOON, you can watch as the various contacts start ripping into each other using live ammunition.”

Mycroft glared at Jim. Jim just smirked.

“Would you trust any computer or phone I gave you?”

“No.”

“Then how do you expect to manage this?”

“Sherlock’s pet has a laptop and a phone,” Jim sniffed. “They’re not bugged by you and they already have my programs in them.”

“Why,” Mycroft asked him slowly, staring at him, “and HOW do you have programs running in John Watson’s computer and phone?”

“To keep an eye on Sherlock, obviously! Do keep up, Mycroft. Now, I need proper clothes–I’m not going anywhere like this.”

Anthea cleared her throat, “I can go borrow some–”

“I can borrow Mycroft’s phone and call my tailors, you can pick it up from there.”

Anthea started to protest and Mycroft sighed, “Yes, of course, and we need to back up the impression that I’m taking good care of you, which includes having you properly dressed.”

“I knew you could keep up if you just stayed away from those bo-ring government idiots for a bit. Honestly, they’re poisoning your brain cells.”

“You haven’t met the ones that are poisoning my brain cells yet.”

“There’s worse?”

“Those were the good goldfish.”

“Goldfish?” Jim looked puzzled for a moment and then Mycroft imagined that he felt the Bond link provide the impression of various politicians puffing out their cheeks and flashing their gill covers as they sat in little office bowls…. Jim fell over laughing.

Anthea looked pained and slipped out of the room to get a phone she could hand to him; she didn’t want him getting the password to Mycroft’s.

“Oh, I like that!” Jim said wiping tears out of his eyes. “Goldfish!”

“What did you think of the idiots you had to deal with?”

“Stage props, mostly,” Jim shrugged.

Jim sat quietly and ate more fruit; it was more and more obvious how exhausted and injured he was. Mycroft felt guilty, which wasn’t being helped by the fact that he had some respect for him as an opponent; he shoved those feelings aside. “You should eat more protein.”

“Have it delivered to Baker Street: your brother doesn’t eat enough, either.”

Anthea came back in with a burner phone, which she handed to Jim carefully.

Mycroft sighed and got out his phone, walking into the other room.

“Sherlock? I’ll be coming over in about an hour.”

“You never warn me,” Sherlock answered suspiciously. “You’re too afraid I’ll leave before you could get here. What’s going on?”

Mycroft rubbed his forehead, “It’s far too complicated.”

“I’m not taking the case, whatever it is.”

“It’s not a case.”

There was silence on the line for several beats, “This should be good. Alright, I’ll be here.”

“I’m ordering food, it will be delivered there.” Mycroft hung up. He had a migraine already; he could only imagine how bad it was going to be once he actually had to explain things.


	5. You're the only one that's understood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sadly, many Alpha/Omega couples come in for counseling because they get these ridiculous expectations of the Bond from movies and books, and, when their Bond doesn’t measure up, they think somethings wrong. Most Bonds allow the partners to feel strong emotion, and get a general sense of location of their partner, and that’s IT. The range is rather less than people think as well. The telepathic bond–the one where you can have conversations despite one party being imprisoned in a tower or something–occurs very rarely, and is unrealistic in the extreme, but people read the fairy tales and think that’s something they should expect.” – from an interview with Dr. Sian Tsien, author of “The Real Guide to Alpha and Omega Bonding”

Getting Jim to Baker Street was complicated by the fact that Jim wasn’t steady on his feet at all.

“You’re faking that,” Mycroft hissed at him once they were in the car.

Jim slowly lowered his sunglasses and stared at him. “Oh, OBVIOUSLY, Iceman,” he drawled. “I get tortured by your best men as a spa day, and then follow it up by going off suppressants for the first time in ten years, and I’m fresh as a daisy.” He slid the glasses back up and leaned back into the car seat.

_It was a trick: I’ve seen the man’s acting skills. He’s just trying to use the fact that he’s an Omega to control me, fool me._

As they drove silently across town, Mycroft had to admit it probably wasn’t a trick. He and his men had tried everything to break him–at least, everything he could recover from–and he’d needed medical intervention several times… _Hell, they were still going to have to watch for pneumonia._

“I always thought Omegas were weak and stupid things,” Mycroft said gruffly.

“When you’re up against Alphas who can snap you in half without trying, cleverness is what you have left, Mycroft,” Jim said absently in response. “Alphas have always hated to admit that brawn isn’t the answer to everything; naturally, they want to believe they’re smarter, too.”

“I never wanted to have an Omega.”

“I never wanted to be one–so?”

Mycroft didn’t know what to say to that. He watched Jim sip at his bottled water and wondered what it was like to be that smart, and that tough, and constantly dismissed…

*

Mycroft went ahead into the flat, leaving Jim with a Beta guard at the car. Sherlock and John were likely to react badly to him if they were confronted without warning.

He smelled the food as he opened the door. _Good, I have to feed my Omega…_ He shook his head.

“Whatever is going on, Mycroft?” Sherlock was sitting in his usual chair, fingers steepled in front of him eyes narrowed. “This is far too much food, and it’s almost all protein, vegetables, and soup. You’re not ill, though.”

“Maybe he realizes you never eat enough?” John Watson said in an exasperated tone. “Hello, Mycroft.” John was far from friendly with him, but he wasn’t hostile.

“No,” Sherlock said simply.

“Indeed. I’m bringing someone who needs to eat.” Mycroft felt his expressions giving him away and cursed himself for it.

“You?!” Sherlock sat forward and his eyes snapped open in shock. “You SWORE you’d never mate with an Omega!”

“Wait, what?” John looked back and forth. “What’s this?”

“I’m an Alpha,” Mycroft sighed. “I’m sure Sherlock told you how our family reacted to Sherlock being a Beta?”

“Not much, no,” John admitted. “Beta is the usual, after all.” He glanced at Sherlock, “I just got the impression there were problems, but no one told me what.”

Mycroft sagged into the other chair. “Oh. I had hoped you were more informed.”

“Why should I bother John with such ludicrously outdated conventions?” Sherlock snapped.

“This is going to be more difficult, then.”

“Well, I AM a doctor–I know a little about Alphas and Omegas,” John said reasonably. “I take it congratulations are in order?”

“No,” Mycroft said, “not really.”

“Mummy couldn’t possibly have leveled a sufficient threat to get you to take an Omega mate if Father never managed, so what happened?”

Jim’s voice carried from the doorway, “Well, obviously, I’m irresistible.”

John went for his gun. Sherlock stared in shock as Mycroft stalked to the door, “YOU were supposed to be in the car.”

“Sorry, sorry, Sir!” The Beta Guard was trotting up the stairs. “I looked away for a moment–”

“Go back to the car and wait!” Mycroft growled, Alpha resonance and command slipping out. _Idiot! Anything could have happened!_ The Beta almost tumbled down the stairs in retreat.

Jim–the Omega who should have been cowering from the displeased Alpha–just snarled, “Really, Mycroft? Since when do you think I can’t get away from one guard who’s too afraid to shoot me? Do you think my competency vanished just because you fucked me?”

Mycroft grabbed him and started to shake him, barely managing to stop himself. “I thought you had enough sense to stay safely in the car with the guard!”

“I think someone needs to explain this, right now,” John said firmly behind him, and Mycroft turned to see John–currently holding a pistol at a military rest–staring at them.

For a Beta, John had quite the command voice; it was suddenly easy to see how he had made Captain. Sherlock was staring at them in shock, hand frozen half way to his pistol.

Mycroft felt the urge to rip Watson apart for being a threat, but it was easier to push that aside now that the hormone storm had subsided– that and he was a Beta.

Jim slipped easily out of Mycroft’s grip and walked over to the table, picking up a bowl of soup and sitting down in a chair as if it was a throne. “Hello again, Johnny. Long time, no see. Reaction time’s improving.”

Sherlock cleared his throat, “You’re… an Omega?” The disbelief was palpable, his voice rising nearly an octave on the last word.

 _How DARE you dismiss me!_ “One more word out of you and I’ll have you stuffed and mounted in my living room!” Jim hissed.

Sherlock’s expression turned from shock to wonder. “You… You managed all that? And I never realized? No one ever realized? Brilliant…” he breathed.

 _What? Wait, he wasn’t…?_ Jim found himself at a loss.

John snapped, “Christ! Here we go again! Can you stop with the criminal admiration society, Sherlock, and get back to the fact that the lunatic is in our FLAT!”

Mycroft found himself fighting not to interfere as his mate and his brother interacted. The problem is he didn’t know whether to try to defend his brother from Moriarty, or protect his Omega from the two Betas. _My head hurts._

Sherlock stopped and turned his head to Mycroft, his expression closing. “You…” Sherlock uncoiled himself to his full height and was over to Mycroft in a few strides. “You! You…!” Sherlock sputtered angrily and then began a motion to strike him, barely stopping in time. “How could you possibly have done that?!”

John grabbed Sherlock and pulled him back. “Done what?! What’s going on?!”

“No one knew Moriarty was an Omega,” Mycroft said quietly. “He’s been in interrogation for weeks…”

John recoiled in shock. Sherlock didn’t move, just stood there glaring at Mycroft. “We had an understanding Mycroft, and NO part of that involved forcibly BONDING him to get your damned answers!”

“So you did know I was there?” Jim asked calmly from the chair. At some point he’d gotten a plate of something more solid than soup. “I’d wondered.”

“My God!” John stared at Jim, aghast. “He’s really an OMEGA? And you interrogated him?” John looked sick.

Sherlock, never taking his eyes off Mycroft, snapped, “Obviously, and so what? The important part is my brother forcibly bonded him! It’s intolerable!”

“So what?” Mycroft blinked, taken aback. “We tortured him, Sherlock, and he’s an Omega! I can barely stomach–”

“SO? If he couldn’t take it, all he had to do was tell you, so stop whining about it Mycroft. How do you think BONDING him isn’t worse?!”

 _He meant it! He really meant it! I always knew he was wonderful; why couldn’t it have been him if it had to be anyone?_ Jim couldn’t help himself: he was out of the chair in an instant and plastered himself against Sherlock’s back,wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Sherlock jerked and tensed violently. “You’re wonderful, really.”

Mycroft, not for the first time since this started, wondered if he was losing his mind. “Sherlock doesn’t care that we tortured you–tortured an Omega–and he’s wonderful…?”

Jim took a vague pity on Sherlock’s obvious tension and let him go. Sherlock rapidly stepped away and left the room.

“He’s wonderful,” Jim snapped up at Mycroft, “because he doesn’t assume that just because I had the accursed luck to be born an Omega, that I’m some kind of weak USELESS piece of idiotic TRASH that has to be coddled from the harsh realities of life!”

Mycroft snapped back, “I hardly think you’re weak.”

“Yes, you do!”

Sherlock came back into the room with some things in his pockets. “Jim? My brother is an ass, but I’ve never thought he was a rapist.” He was looking intently at Jim. “So I’d like to know how this happened.”

Mycroft sagged, “I’m afraid your faith is misplaced, brother.”

John shook his head, “You tortured him, raped him, and bonded him? My GOD–“

The pet’s  shocked whining was getting on Jim’s nerves. “Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Jim. He looked back at Sherlock, who was looking at him intently, clearly listening to HIS side of it… his side of it over his own brother’s.

“You’re a marvel, you know,” Jim said softly at Sherlock. “I was going to keep on with the poor wounded abuse victim thing, but you actually care about the right parts, don’t you?”

“Some things are intolerable,” Sherlock said solemnly. “I’ve always had a great deal of respect for your abilities and intellect, even if I think you apply them terribly. What happened?”

“They tortured me–did a good job of it; I’m still pretty out of it–and, unfortunately, something between the drugs and the abuse overrode my suppressants.” Jim sighed and sat down, “I suppose I must have been pumping out a great deal of pheromones, but, of course, most interrogators are Beta. They must have called your brother; he walked into a face full of pheromones and attacked the guard–”

“I what?” Mycroft startled; he didn’t remember that.

“Picked me up and started snarling viciously at everyone. Some bright boy must have realized–and they deserve a raise, really–and hit the emergency lock down.  By that point, my brain was turning into mush with the whole ‘Alpha will protect me’ idiocy, and I THINK I remember licking his neck… The next thing I suspect either of us remembers is waking up on the appallingly cold concrete.”

“As I said, brother, I’m afraid your faith in me is misplaced.” Mycroft tried to look impassive and keep some semblance of dignity about himself.

“Oh, stuff it, Mycroft.” Sherlock sighed. “So you were both out of your minds. You went feral to protect the Omega, and he went feral trying to get you to mate him and protect him. Technically, either neither of you are guilty of rape, or you both are.” Sherlock looked thoughtful, “Of course, as the person in charge of the interrogation, there’s negligence involved, but it’s not the same thing.”

“No, it isn’t,” Jim sighed and sat back.

Mycroft stared at them both, calculating rapidly. “You accept that?”

“At this point,” Jim shrugged. “No, of course I didn’t at first–I was furious.”

John grabbed a cup of tea. “I am so lost,” he muttered.

Sherlock took a small bottle out of his pocket. “I can’t eat well when I’m on a case,” he said hesitantly. “John insisted I get these: they aren’t bad.” He held out a bottle of meal replacement shake.

Jim smiled faintly and took it. “Damn shame you aren’t an Alpha–I thought you were.”

“I thought YOU were.”

“Me?” Jim blinked at him. “With my height and features?”

“John’s shorter than you and he’s a Beta,” Sherlock shrugged. “Besides, you carry yourself like one.”

Jim laughed, “So both of us missed our deductions.”

Sherlock sat back with a smirk, “Well, I console myself that my brother had more opportunities to notice, and HE missed it.”

Mycroft bristled slightly, “I don’t think anyone could possibly expect an OMEGA to be running a criminal enterprise of this magnitude!”

“I’m surprised more of them don’t,” said Sherlock dismissively. “They must get awfully bored.”

Jim cackled.

John pinched his nose and then said, “I think my medical school must have skipped a lot on Alphas and Omegas. If you two are bonded, shouldn’t you be… uh….”

Jim shrugged, “Simpering and fawning all over the big oaf? Why should I?”

Mycroft grumbled, “I’m VERY glad that you aren’t, but, I admit, the Omegas I’ve met previously have all been highly ornamental with fewer brains than a houseplant.”

Sherlock sighed, “What choice do they have? Most Omegas get pulled out of school as soon as it becomes obvious what they are, and married off to some puff-chested idiot Alpha as evidence of their inbred status.”

John stared at Sherlock, “I thought Omegas were delicate, and um… less intelligent… by nature.” He saw the expression darkening on Jim’s face and hurriedly added, “That’s what I was taught.”

Mycroft sighed, “It is, in fact, what I believed. I am forced to conclude that either Jim is an aberration of the most extreme type, or perhaps it IS the inbreeding in the noble lines.”

Sherlock shrugged, “I’ve had occasion to meet a number of Omegas in the course of my cases, and before: most of them are as intelligent as anyone else, but woefully undereducated. That, and so many have internalized the beliefs about Omegas–they think they must be stupid, vain, shallow–that they behave that way.”

Jim nodded glumly, “And no one takes you seriously, ever.”

Sherlock looked over at John, “He’ll need a physical, and a pregnancy test.”

Mycroft flinched; he’d been trying not to think about it. Jim was making faces.

“I’ve never done a physical on an Omega,” John admitted. “They’re rare enough, and there are specialists…”

“Yes, but you’re familiar with combat and interrogation injuries, and that’s what we’re worried about primarily. If there hasn’t been any bleeding from the sex, it’s likely not an issue for damage. Omega Males are built to handle that to an extent that other men simply aren’t.”

Sherlock said it so casually that John found himself wincing along with Mycroft.

“You will want to check for pneumonia risk–waterboarding, and all,” Jim said pleasantly, finishing his shake. “You’re right, this isn’t bad.”

John stared at him, “Right, Omegas are weak things with no pain tolerances.”

Sherlock snorted, “I never understood why anyone believed that. Childbirth is one of the most painful experiences people can undergo in their usual life–barring traumatic injury–and yet people persist in thinking women and Omegas are the frailer genders.”

Mycroft arched an eyebrow, “Perhaps because Alphas are routinely expected to suffer combat injuries?”

Sherlock drawled, “That just proves they’re stupid,” and exchanged a smirk with Jim. “Come on, let’s get you checked out; I’ll come with you since apparently I’ve studied more of the Omega biology–admittedly for forensics.”

Mycroft sat there wondering how Jim and his brother had abruptly gone from strangely obsessed enemies to cautious friends in such a short time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for my erratic updates, life has been ridiculously tough lately


	6. I see the truth when I'm all stupid-eyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Most physicians get a quick overview of Alpha and Omega physiology in medical school and that’s the end of it. Unless they choose to specialize in Alpha or Omega medicine, the average doctor would be lucky to even RECOGNIZE one unless they saw it listed in the chart, and they certainly don’t understand the unique issues that accompany the two secondary genders. The only non-specialized doctors that know anything about it are the military physicians, and even they mostly deal with Alphas. Ask a typical doctor about drug reactions with Omega hormones and they don’t even know what you’re talking about.” – Testimony excerpt from a legal petition to insist that emergency room physicians be given more training in Alpha and Omega medicine after the death of Omega Stephen Fermis from incorrect medical treatment.

Jim was uneasy about the physical: he hadn’t had a real one in over a decade. He had expected Sherlock being there to make it worse, but it didn’t. John was professional and very military, and Sherlock mostly chimed up at points mentioning clinical details of Omega biology. Eventually, Sherlock told John to go get an Omega pregnancy test.

“Where do you even get one?” John asked after a moment’s thought. “I never saw one in the regular shops.”

Sherlock rattled off five locations, and then pointed out that one of them would be an easy trip if he took Mycroft’s car.

“Should I even ask why you know that?”

“A case, obviously. I’d go, but it will raise fewer questions if a doctor goes: the last thing we need is an expose questioning whether Sherlock Holmes got some Omega pregnant.”

Jim thought about it and added, “Get several kits: that way, it looks like you want them for the clinic.”

John had to agree, and in short order was heading out in Mycroft’s car. Mycroft was handling several transactions on his personal computer and scarcely looked up when Sherlock took food and John’s computer back into the room.

“I assumed you wanted to use John’s computer.”

“That obvious?” Jim smiled tiredly.

“I found the programs, but, since he never does anything notable on this computer, I didn’t see any point in removing them.”

Sherlock sat at a distance until Jim finished sending the most urgent messages. “My room is soundproofed, or at least sound resistant–even Mycroft can’t casually listen in here.”

Jim looked up warily, “This is important, why?”

“There are ways of breaking the Bond, especially since you weren’t actually in heat.”

“In theory,” Jim’s mouth twisted in dismay, “but I’m already picking up near telepathic-level information on it.”

Sherlock almost gasped, “That’s…”

“A complete Bond, and probably a better one than most pairs get these days.” Jim almost threw the laptop across the room. “I know! All those idiots begging for a fairy tale Bond; I don’t want one, and I’m the one that gets stuck with it!”

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock shook his head. “It must be a nightmare.”

“Most people wouldn’t realize that.”

“Most people haven’t helped smuggle Omegas away from abusive families, or away from arranged marriages,” Sherlock said drily.

“Why couldn’t it have been you!?” _I won’t cry, I won’t._

“I’m not an Alpha: I spent enough of my childhood praying I would be–and enough time on the streets wishing I had been–but I’m not,” Sherlock said sadly. After a while, he said, “My brother and I don’t have a very good relationship, but you could certainly have ended up with worse.”

“He’s less awful than he could have been,” Jim admitted, “but he isn’t making it easy, either, and it’s difficult to get comfortable with someone who oversaw your torture sessions.  Being outed at all is…” He shuddered.

“I expect it’s not easy for him, either. He swore to never mate, you know.” Sherlock shivered slightly, thinking about history, and his family.

“Oh, I know. That PA of his is his lover–was.”

“Was she? I never paid much attention.” Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and apparently went back to a more businesslike attitude. “I’ll do my best to get Mycroft to behave reasonably, but honestly the Bond and the pheromones mean you’ll have more luck.

“Since he never had any expectations of a mate, he’ll probably be an idiot, just running on the instincts, so try to break him of it–but it may help if you understand that he really never prepared for this. He despised the type of Omegas Father tried to set him up with. I never understood that, since Mummy was hardly like the brainless wretches he kept shoving at him, but it rather tarnished his idea of Omegas.”

“I…” Jim gritted his teeth, “I appreciate your help.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. _He actually said that?_ “God, it’s that bad?” Jim nodded. “You work on your messages; I’ll go try to talk to Mycroft.” Sherlock paused, “Whatever else you set up, try not to get him killed. We may not get along, but–“

“I’m not. I’m setting up a cover story that I’m just the face of the real Moriarty, my older brother. Ask Mycroft for the details. To some people, I’m letting it be suggested that I set up a whole fake Omega thing to control him, all that nonsense.”

“Ah,” Sherlock nodded. “Try to keep the chaos down to a dull roar?”

“That’s the point, yes.”

He went out to talk to Mycroft, closing the door behind him.

~

“I expected more… explosions,” Mycroft admitted quietly. “You seem to actually be getting along.”

Sherlock nodded slowly, “A lot of his behavior suddenly makes more sense.”

“Does it?”

“He has to overcompensate for everything: he can never show a moment’s weakness, fear, or even emotion.” Sherlock sighed and sat back into his chair, staring at the ceiling. “He has to be better than everyone, and at all costs never, ever, let anyone guess he’s an Omega.”

“It certainly never occurred to me,” Mycroft admitted.

“I know it’s not natural for you, Mycroft, but try to be considerate of him. Don’t pity him, or talk down to him, but his life is over: give him some time to grieve, at least.”

Mycroft stared at him. “HIS life is over? My life is ruined!”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous, Mycroft,” Sherlock snapped.

“The political ramifications alone!–“

Sherlock cut him off, “You lost some political power because he’s unexpectedly an Omega and it looks bad. He’s going to help you out to save his own life, so that will smooth things over, and now you’re a respectably BONDED Alpha, as opposed to a potentially irrational single Alpha. People will think better of you, you’ll be welcome to people’s houses–since you’re no longer a threat to their Omega family members–and Mummy will stop setting you up with idiotic Omega clothes horses.”

Sherlock stopped and mused, “There was a hint: he always did have that clothes horse streak.”

“So do you,” Mycroft grumbled.

“That’s just from Mummy’s insisting we both always dress well–you have a bit of it yourself.”

“True.” Mycroft sighed, “I hadn’t considered the advantages, other than getting some information about his criminal activities out of him. I suppose it may be beneficial in some areas.”

“As is typical, Mycroft, you, as an Alpha, benefit immensely from a pair Bond, gaining prestige, stability, respectability. Your chances for promotion go up–as if you have anywhere to go. Meanwhile, his reputation as a leader is destroyed, most of his people wouldn’t follow him if they knew, and legally the Omega becomes somewhat your dependent. How well do you think James Moriarty tolerates being dependent on anyone? Much less you?”

“I hadn’t considered it,” Mycroft admitted.

“You’ve never had to.” Sherlock sighed, “You lost some and gained some, but Jim lost everything. The only way to hang on to any of his independence and authority is to either kill you or try to pass it all off as a trick, or for you to cooperate in his story. You could abuse him, control him, lock him away and force yourself on him–he’s your Omega and a criminal: no one’s going to help him. He’s terrified.”

Mycroft felt his stomach twist as he realized that Sherlock was only repeating facts he knew. The law might protect Jim against abuse, in theory, but in practice he had fewer protections than a Beta wife, owing to the strong traditions surrounding the Alpha-Omega Bond. The fact that Mycroft was a respectable member of the government and Jim… wasn’t… made the power imbalance even worse.

“I don’t want to have an Omega at all, but I have no intention of acting like that,” Mycroft said quietly. _I don’t want him at all, but I won’t abuse him._

“Mycroft, you can do almost ANYTHING to him… and you were supervising his interrogation. Try to sit down and discuss what you two are going to do, and how you ARE going to behave, or he’s going to assume the worst and defend himself.”

Mycroft shut his eyes; he couldn’t argue any of it. “Yes, of course.” _I have to get this over with as soon as possible. It will be better for us both._

“One last thing, Mycroft,” Sherlock said as he got out his phone. “Jim is at least as intelligent as I am, and fiercely independent. He’s as manipulative as you are, and probably equally well connected, if in a different direction. You honestly couldn’t have found an Omega who was better suited for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (resists urge t smack Mycroft upside the head) in fairness his upbringing really didn't give him a good background for a relationship, and Jim isnt exactly reaching out well... sigh. the power imbalance here is enormous and as an "alpha privilege" guy, plus a member of the power elite in England, Mycroft just DOESN'T get it.  
> Add in the fact that he's Irish, not from a rich/respected background (class and race/ethnic issues) and a criminal.... yeah, Mycroft could do anything at all to him.
> 
> oh, for my YOUNGER readers, i grew up when a woman couldn't get credit in her own name, a lot of the Omega stuff here is just translated from the history of women's Independence and financial issues.


	7. I shouldn't go but you're wrenching, dragging, shaking me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The expectations of Alpha and Omega behavior amount to an extreme form of the expectations of primary gender roles in society. Omegas are prized or damned for the traits that are expected in Females, and Alphas are expected to exemplify the best and worst of the traits we hold up as Male. This toxic view of the Primary Gender roles is found in Betas as well, but with many societies building a higher and higher wall between what the Genders are expected, or even permitted, to do, it’s no wonder that Male Omegas, or Female Alphas, encounter such drastic prejudice.” – Professor Sergei Leibsch, speaking at a Feminist conference on how toxic gender roles affect the secondary genders.

“Negative,” John said matter of factly. “The medical information says it should be checked again after a week, though.” He looked wistful, “Normal pregnancy tests aren’t even remotely accurate this soon after, I take it that’s an Omega thing as well?”

Jim shrugged in a non-committal fashion. He didn’t want to admit that he had no idea.

“They really didn’t cover this in medical school?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“We barely covered it at all,” John admitted.

“Yes, Omega biology changes very rapidly. It was never likely that Jim would be pregnant, since this wasn’t a true heat and he’d been on suppressants, but, since that would be the most absolute way to secure a protective Alpha, it was always possible. Omega biology is ruthlessly efficient.” Sherlock nodded. “It’s actually quite fascinating.”

“I’m sure it is, when you don’t have to live with it,” Jim snapped, even though it wasn’t Sherlock’s fault. _He’d been remarkably helpful about it all. Luckily, he seemed entirely unruffled by it._

They went back out to the food. Mycroft gruffly handed him a bowl of something warm, “I re-heated it.”

Sherlock looked amused, “You can operate a microwave, brother? I’m shocked.”

“Don’t tell me he’s worse than YOU?!” John winced.

“On the contrary, Doctor Watson: unlike my brother, I actually can cook. Sherlock is referring to the fact that I despise microwaves as an appalling insult to a chef’s skills–besides, I used the range, after I managed to find a pan in this disaster you call a kitchen.”

“You? Can cook?” Jim looked at Mycroft dubiously as he ate the food. “Isn’t that a terribly non-Alpha thing to do?”

“Only if one is an idiot.” Mycroft sniffed, “I refuse to be limited to substandard food just because of some outdated notions about Alpha skill sets.”

“Father despised it,” Sherlock said pleasantly, “Which I’m sure only encouraged him. Perhaps you can get him out of the habit of wasting all his time cooking sweets.”

“You continually assume I have any sway over him,” Jim said dubiously.

“You don’t,” Mycroft growled.

Sherlock snorted. “The pregnancy test was negative–as I expected, given his current condition–but if you expect him to actually recover from interrogation before his next heat he’ll need to eat something besides sweets, Mycroft, so I suggest you stop thinking entirely of your own sweet tooth and remember how to cook something a tad healthier.” Sherlock looked back down at his phone.

Mycroft looked appalled, “I expect this will have been resolved long before that!” _He’s made it clear how he feels, after all._

“John?” Sherlock didn’t look up from his phone. “Go wait in my room for a moment; I’ll text you.”

“What?” John blinked at him. When no reply was forthcoming, John sighed and walked off, muttering, “Honestly, Sherlock, I would like an explanation at some point!”

Jim glanced at Mycroft only to find him looking suspiciously at Sherlock. No one said anything until John was gone and the door closed.

“What do you think you’re suggesting, Sherlock? I assure you you’re wrong. James has made his position quite clear–not that I can blame him in the slightest: this has been a disaster for us both.”

“And yet, somehow, despite my offers, neither of you has asked for help in breaking the Bond or getting away from each other.” Sherlock snorted, “Neither of you wanted to be in this position, but it’s perfectly obvious that you’re the only possible match for each other.”

They both started to protest and Sherlock raised his voice, without looking up. “You’re both almost impossibly annoying and insanely intelligent. You’ve both been putting up with the idiots trying to box you into your gender roles for years, and, despite that, Mycroft plays beautiful piano, cooks splendidly–when he bothers–and has yet to rip the head off the innumerable idiots he deals with daily, when I barely manage that. Jim runs a multinational criminal and political enterprise that rivals anything run by official governments, orders and controls innumerable people, including presumably a number of Alphas, and has managed to conceal his secondary gender the entire time. “

“He’s made it very clear he doesn’t want to remain Bonded to me,” Mycroft said tightly.

“Mikey is going to have me shot as soon as he’s gotten all the information he can out of me, he’s made that clear enough.”

“Yes, well, you both lie a lot.” Sherlock shrugged. “You managed to form a Bond despite the rather appalling circumstances, and neither of you is asking to be gotten out of it.”

“He most certainly did!” they both shouted at him in unison.

Sherlock looked up, smirking. “I’m sure you did, but you aren’t now. You two are going to make each other equally miserable until you actually learn how to communicate and stop trying to threaten and control each other. I expect an invitation to the formal Bonding ceremony–I might even attend.” Sherlock looked back at his phone. “Do call Mummy soon, Mycroft: if she finds out from her spies, she’ll be terribly cross.”

Mycroft dragged James out of the flat and back into the car, where he started snarling about Sherlock’s insufferable behavior.

“He is, isn’t he?” Jim grumbled. “It’s not as though we could break it. One of us will have to be dead.”

“There are any number of ways to break a Bond, especially since it’s so recent.”

“All of which presume a weak Bond, Mycroft. As an Omega I did a lot of research on it.”

“Our Bond isn’t that strong.”

James stared at him, and he was so believably hurt and angry that Mycroft felt himself starting to fall into his trap for a moment. “Oh?” He put his glasses back on and settled into the seat as far from Mycroft as he could manage.

_It’s pretty damn strong on my side, but of course he gets lucky. Iceman, indeed._

~

John finally texted Sherlock to ask if he could come back. Sherlock had apparently forgotten to tell him so.

“Really, Sherlock? Could you BE any less considerate?”

“I suppose I could try.” He was sitting there in his usual thinking posture. “I’m afraid I’m not cut out to be a Bonding counselor.”

John almost choked to death on his tea. “Well, NO, no you aren’t. Why?”

“They have a very good Bond, and they’re clearly ideally suited to each other, but they both despise being Bonded and they mated under terrible circumstances.”

“Interrogation and rape, yeah.” John sat down tiredly. “Can’t they break it?”

“In theory? Yes. In practice? They both would need to want to break it.”

“Well… Uh… Don’t they?”

“No. I offered both of them, separately and together, help in escaping or breaking the Bond, they both made excuses.”

John stared at him, “Why WOULDN’T they want to get out of it?”

“John, how well do you understand me?”

“What?”

“Just what I asked. You’re smarter than ninety percent of the people out there, at least, and yet you’re still incredibly slow to figure out even the simplest puzzles compared to me–”

“I’ll assume you meant that as a compliment.”

“I did,” Sherlock said idly. “Mycroft is smarter than I am in many ways, he’s just lacking in the willingness to do his own legwork, and he rarely has anyone to challenge him, so he’s gotten lazy. Jim is my equal, as you know.”

“So? What has this to do with–”

“Who do either of them have to talk to? For company? It’s an intensely lonely existence.”

“You’re saying they don’t want to break it off because they don’t have anyone else worth talking to?”

“If Jim hadn’t threatened you… I might very well have gone off with him, simply because the idea of a peer is so attractive. Sadly, he thought I was an Alpha–which, of course, I am not–so his fantasy of the two of us Bonding was doomed.”

“So he should settle for your brother? Even with what he did?”

“Jim was angling for a specific result out of Mycroft. He CHOSE to stay in interrogation, so he doesn’t take it that personally–for all that he may be angry about it–and neither of them intended the rape. It happened, but both of them were essentially drugged.”

“You honestly think they can make this work?”

“I THINK that if they can’t make it work, one or both of them will end up dead. I would prefer that they find a way to make it work.”

~

Sebastian Moran was re-reading the boss’s message–again.

He wanted the following stories separately leaked and backed up:

  * That Moriarty had a younger brother, an Omega, who had been mistaken for Moriarty himself. Being a clever Omega, he’d managed to Bond a high ranking Alpha, thus giving Moriarty a wonderful opportunity. His brother and the Alpha, Mycroft Holmes, were strictly off limits unless orders came from Moriarty himself.
  * Several high government officials were putting out the story that Moriarty was an Omega, to make the various criminal leaders look weak.
  * The Omega being passed off as Moriarty was the children’s storyteller and actor, Richard Brook. (Activate that cover identity immediately, and add in hints that he was actually an Omega.)
  * He also reiterated that until further notice the Holmes project was suspended, observation was to be pulled back, and the Holmes brothers–both of them–were not to be touched.



The messages were authenticated by all the right codes, and sent from John Watson’s computer, which was an emergency use contact point.

_Jim shouldn’t be there–he should either be in interrogation, or calling a cab to come home after he got let go._

_It was all wrong._

_All this Omega stuff, why was he doing this so suddenly? It wasn’t unheard of for Jim to get a bright idea and change plans on a dime, but what the hell was the boss UP to? He’d let himself be captured, he planned on trading information to Mycroft Holmes for something, he had his plans–he always had his plans–and something had changed drastically enough to need all of this?_

Sebastian knew the Richard Brook alias. He’d always been amazed that Jim could pull it off: the identity was so unlike him. _An Omega? Rare, but sure, Richard Brook pretty much hit all the markers: works with kids, meek, gentle. To activate it now, however, meant potentially derailing a lot of his plans, and to need to add in the Omega angle?_

 _Jim as an Omega: that was a laugh._ He was a Beta and still more Alpha than most of the Alphas he knew. The thought of his father, Lord Augustus Moran, posh Alpha blueblood, trying to push around the ‘lowly Beta’ Jim made him snort. His father would never understand that Sebastian would take orders from Jim over those idiots in the military any day.

 _Jim as an Omega._ Sebastian sighed. If Jim were an Omega he would have been in heaven, but Omegas were… like the fictitious Richard Brook: the kind that took care of kids and fainted at the sight of blood. He’d long ago given up any thought of finding an Omega he could tolerate. Let his sister carry on the noble family line garbage, he’d rather be in a gay partnership with another Alpha, or find a suitable Beta, than deal with one of those simpering breeders. If Jim had ever so much as hinted he was interested, he would have dropped all those Beta girls in a heartbeat, and that was the truth.

Sebastian did what he was told, activating the cover identity and getting the rumors started, but he kept worrying.

 _If something had gone that badly wrong…_ The boss would need his help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are oxygen.  
> hopefullly i will be getting back to my usual update schedule soon


	8. The more I give to you the more I die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “On the rare occasions that an Omega has been charged with a crime, separately from their Alpha, holding the Omega prisoner has been a challenge. It is usually simplest to hold them with their Alpha, but when that is not possible housing them with other Omegas and female Betas is considered acceptable. While unbonded Omegas may be able to be held in more usual prisoner facilities, even an unbonded Omega is highly subject to psychosis in isolation, and a bonded Omega will go completely feral if not given sufficient social contact.”– From the precis on handling Omega prisoners from the Ministry Of Omega Rights and Safety (MORS)

They went back to the secure building, Mycroft phoning in short cryptic statements, and texting various people while ignoring Jim. It was clearly just his damnable Omega biology making him feel anything for that insufferable block of ice. “Ruthlessly efficient” Sherlock had called it: well, he was right. Every instinct was screaming at him to placate his Alpha, try to fix whatever was wrong. Jim forced himself to analyze, to think.

 _Mycroft wanted to break the bond. Mycroft would realize that staying close would only reinforce it, and he would know how much pain a bonded Omega–a typical Omega–would suffer in isolation. Mycroft would put him back into a cell, expecting him to break._ He texted a simple command code on the burner phone he’d retrieved from its hiding place in the Baker Street flat–the real reason he’d slipped past his guard and gone in alone. He deleted the text and shoved the phone into the seat cushions.

~

Mycroft was quietly panicking. He kept finding himself believing that James felt fear, or desire, or any of the false emotions that he presented. _He was just manipulating me_. The Alpha imperative to care for his mate was driving him insane. He found himself believing Sherlock’s assurance that James wanted to be bonded to him, right up until he remembered the Omega screaming at him that he didn’t want him at all.

Looking at James coolly staring out the window of the car, he could realize how dangerous this pheromone- and hormone-driven idiocy was. He would put him back in his cell–albeit with food and blankets–until he could get one of the medical specialists to start the hormone treatments needed to break the Bond. James would be perfectly comfortable, and perhaps, after a few hours away from him, Mycroft could recover some of his wits.

~

Mycroft had James delivered to the cell, fighting the urge to throttle the Beta guards for touching his mate. He went up to his secondary office and started working, ignoring the increasing panic and nausea–obviously a symptom of pheromone withdrawal. He actually started feeling claustrophobic, for some reason, and he kept feeling this horrible sensation he couldn’t quite describe. By the time Anthea came in with the doctor he was laying on the small couch with a cloth over his eyes, having had to take a sedative.

“Sir? Doctor Melton is here… Where’s Moriarty?”

“I had to take a sedative,” Mycroft finally managed to say, he couldn’t figure out how to say much else. “It’s better now than it was.”

“Where is your Omega?” Doctor Melton’s voice had never seemed quite so irritating before; Mycroft wanted to punch him.

“In his cell, where he should have been all along,” Mycroft managed to say, although something in his gut twisted even thinking about it.

“You put… your Omega... in a cell?”

“I said that,” Mycroft snapped at him.

“I must admit, Mister Holmes, when I heard you’d bonded an Omega prisoner I thought it wasn’t possible to think any less of you, but to torture your Bondmate?” Melton’s voice was shaking. “I don’t care what prison you disappear me to: I refuse to participate.”

Anthea’s voice sounded concerned, “Sir? Why would you put him back in his cell? I don’t understand.”

Mycroft managed to sit up; the sensations of panic had definitely faded. “On several occasions, I found myself actually believing that he was frightened, or concerned, or even affectionate. The chemicals are making a mess of my thinking, and I thought getting some distance until we can get this broken would be best.”

“Broken?” Melton was standing there looking frightened and determined. “If you merely wanted to break the Bond, there would be no call to torture him.”

“We’ve been torturing him, Doctor,” Mycroft said drily, trying not to be ill even thinking about it. “He laughed at us. I fail to see what you are going on about at this point.”

Anthea was looking confused and hopeful, but concealing it well. “So you changed your mind? You’re going to try to break it? Even after… after it was so obviously a strong Bond?”

“We don’t have a strong Bond,” Mycroft said, rubbing his head. “I don’t see why everyone keeps talking about it that way.”

“Obviously, you don’t have a strong Bond: otherwise, you couldn’t torture him like that!” snapped Doctor Melton. “You’ll either pull him out of isolation immediately and let me treat him, or I’ll report you for abuse of your mate.”

“He has food and blankets, Doctor, and he laughed off weeks of–“

“You know damn well that a newly Bonded Omega can go psychotic under those conditions!”

Mycroft stared at him in confusion. Melton looked back and forth between Anthea and Mycroft with increasing alarm. “You’re an Alpha, and in charge of this facility! Why are you acting as though you know nothing at all about basic Omega biology?!”

“I know very little about them, and wish to know less.” Mycroft snorted, “Omegas have never been a problem in this department, after all, so our usual concern is making sure the Omega partner of the Alpha prisoner is cared for. As to any other knowledge; that’s why I have experts: so that in the event I need information it is at hand.”

“You…” He glared at Mycroft as though Mycroft had done something unspeakably wrong. “Your assistant seemed to think you had a legitimate Bond, but I doubt it, given what you were able to do to him.  IF you had a legitimate bond,  your BOND-mate would be feral by now, pumping out pheromones trying to call their Alpha back, trying to find out what they’ve done that caused their Alpha to abandon them. They quite often go into heat. Given the physical condition that Omega Moriarty was in, going into heat could be severely damaging or lethal.”

Mycroft’s mouth had gone dry, _No, no, no it couldn't be, he had blankets and food-_ “I– I didn’t… I simply wanted to get my head clear, he should have been quite comfortable…” guilt clawed at him, “I was simply having the most appalling headaches and anxiety that I couldn’t think…”

“Anxiety?” Melton snorted, “Well, if you HAD a Bond, that would be from your poor Omega, of course; now either hand him over to MORS - which is proper procedure- or I will have you-”

Mycroft looked warily at the doctor, “Would feelings of hurt, loss, and claustrophobia be expected from a strong Bond?”

“Obviously… Are you trying to convince me you have been aware of your mate’s distress and ignoring it?!”

“I thought I was sick…” Mycroft whispered. _Those faked emotions… They were so believable I almost felt them… Could that have been real? The betrayed feeling? The claustrophobia, the panic_? “That was from HIM?”

He’d stopped feeling anything some time ago: he’d assumed he was just better for getting away from him. _What if… What if he was…_

Mycroft took off at a dead run for the cells. He distantly heard Anthea saying, “Mister Holmes doesn’t normally have strong emotional–”

There were no guards on his cell: there should have been two… He entered the override code and swiped his card, the door unlocked and he opened it to reveal two of his guards, their throats cut. The room reeked of distressed Omega.

James was gone.

~

Jim had felt the hormones and pheromones kicking into overdrive and ruthlessly shoved it aside for as long as he could. He was sitting on the bed, unable to stop rocking back and forth and whining to himself, when his agents came in on shift change, killed the guardsmen and opened the door. He fought the urge to run to his Alpha and beg.

He growled at them, “Haul me out like you’ve been ordered to get rid of me–hurry up.”

He let them haul him out, stopping briefly to activate the worm in the computer systems that would hopefully erase the camera evidence. He had to take over when they got to the outer perimeter, the exit codes having been changed–luckily, he could figure them out quickly. As he walked out of the doorway to the waiting car he couldn’t force himself to continue anymore, his ALPHA was back there….

 _He doesn’t want me_ , he reminded himself firmly. _He couldn’t even keep me with him for another day._ “Give me the tranquilizer shot,” he ordered.

“Sir?”

“Are you questioning me?” he stared at the Beta, four inches taller than he was and all muscle.

“No, Sir,” the man mumbled and looked away as they got the standard shot out. Jim lost his control for a moment as the sedatives kicked in, struggling to get to his Alpha, before he went under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not thrilled with this chapter, but rather than delay publication any further i am posting it today. i may edit it later. the next chapter is going up today as well (its much better)  
> YES, Mycroft has deliberately avoided anything to do with Omegas (or deleted it) because of his upbringing, and its not like Omegas are ever a problem in his department!!! the usual concern is making sure the omega partner of the alpha is cared for.
> 
> again my apologies for exhaustion and other issues.


	9. My soul is so afraid to realize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The depictions of my gender in the media are atrocious, and contribute to our continuing problems in society. No one expects porn to be realistic, but there’s only ever been one actual male Omega in the porn industry–other than home movie stuff– and he only appeared in films with his Alpha. All these Beta actors are depicting Omegas as if they are magical sex dolls! The mainstream movies, meanwhile, usually won’t cast any actors who are out as Omegas–male or female–except in roles that call for comic relief or helpless victim, and Beta actors have had their careers set back by portraying Omegas at all!  
> My own girlfriend asked me if I was just seeing her as cover because she believed the idea that as a Male Omega I was only interested in Alphas or Beta Males, and all my male costars are being harassed over questions about our–non-existent–“secret relationship”. Is it any wonder that I kept my secondary gender a secret?” – Actor Ian Somerset speaking to Variety after a reporter leaked confidential medical records revealing him as an Omega.

Chapter 9

Sebastian had been inordinately glad of the text triggering the emergency extraction. It was a practiced drill; they’d gone over it in case Jim had needed to be pulled out for some reason, before all this Omega nonsense…

But…

 _Something had gone wrong enough to need a major change of plans, and he’d been at the Baker Street flat…_ Sebastian decided to oversee the second half of the extraction himself, and took off on his motorcycle to the transfer site.

They were hauling a completely limp and unconscious Jim Moriarty out of the car when he arrived. They were clustered around him, half in the van, by the time Sebastian came to a stop.

“What the hell?” Sebastian pulled his helmet off.

“It’s true? This is like the real Moriarty’s brother or something?” One of the other Alphas was leering at Jim for some reason. “God, he smells fantastic.”

Sebastian stalked up. “What are you going on about–” and stopped dead as he got a whiff. _Massively distressed Omega, Bonded, overlaid with the smell of stale prison cells, and drugs._ “What?!”

“So he’s really an Omega?” One of the Beta guards ran a hand down Jim’s back and ass. “I’ve never had one.”

“They’re rare–” leered the Alpha, cut off as Sebastian pulled his pistol and shot him between the eyes.

He turned and shot the Beta before drawling, “Anyone else want to mess with Moriarty’s baby brother?”

Panicked looks and retreat told him all he needed to know. He made note of who they’d been to get rid of them later and pretended to let it go. “What happened? Why’s he out?”

“He– He wanted to be sedated once we got to the car,” the remaining guard stuttered out. “Honestly!”

“Better hope he says that when he wakes up,” Sebastian shrugged. He took Jim out of the back of the van and buckled him in the front seat. He made the boys help put his motorcycle in the back. “I’ll take baby boy home to his brother; you lot go back to work.” He tried to sound bored–he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

He drove the van off and didn’t let himself think about it until he was at the car park, and changing cars again. He’d send someone for his motorcycle later.

_This was definitely Jim Moriarty–his BETA boss._

_This was also definitely an injured, stressed, and Bonded Omega_ –Sebastian had smelled them plenty of times when combat zones over ran civilian areas, and in refugee situations.

Sebastian didn’t understand this at all, but he’d be damned if anyone would hurt Jim on his watch. He just hoped somehow this would make sense when Jim woke up.

*

Mycroft was horrified to find out that what he didn’t know about Bonds and Omegas–or had once known, and deleted as irrelevant–meant that he had unwittingly subjected James to the kind of abuse often considered in war crime tribunals. It was bad enough that he had interrogated him while everyone believed him to be a Beta, but he hadn’t intended any further harm–he’d just wanted enough distance to clear his head!

He sat there and let the Doctor lecture him.

“How can you BE an Alpha and not know anything about this!?” Doctor Melton was shouting at him.

“I never expected to need to know…” Mycroft felt strangely hollow and empty. “I feel strange.”

“Strange how?” the doctor snapped at him.

Mycroft thought, “As though a limb has gone to sleep. Something that should be there isn’t.”

“Not a feeling of loss? Just a lack of sensation? No pain?”

“The panic faded away some time ago, now it just feels… numb.”

“Your Bond mate is either unconscious, catatonic, or out of range.” He sniffed. “And your range is evidently at least from the cell to your office, or you wouldn’t have felt claustrophobic.”

Anthea reported in, “A computer program damaged almost all of the surveillance, Sir, but we found some from the CCTV outside that may be useful.”

They watched in confusion as two men dressed as guards opened the door, with a car waiting. Moriarty stepped out, froze, and looked back. After a short pause he gave orders, stared at one of the men, and they came back with an injector. He was cooperating with the injection, but began struggling as he was moved to the car. They drove away.

“We’ve already started searching camera feeds for the car, Sir.”

“Do you understand what’s going on?” Mycroft asked the doctor.

“No,” he shook his head.

“Sherlock seemed to understand him,” Mycroft admitted unhappily, “and he seemed to be well informed about Omega issues.”

“He’s another Alpha, but better informed than you are?” Melton asked, understandably.

“No, Beta, but he apparently has worked with a number of abuse cases.”

The doctor looked pointedly at him: he tried not to flinch. _Abuse cases including, now, mine._ Mycroft reluctantly called his brother and put it on speaker.

“James is missing. I need you to look at some footage and–”

“What did you do?” Sherlock almost growled at him.

“Why do you assume I did anything? He’s the criminal.” Mycroft knew he sounded defensive, and as expected Sherlock got more determined.

“What did you DO?!” Sherlock actually did growl this time.

“Mister Holmes put his Bond mate in a cell and left him.”

There was dead silence on the other end of the line for far too long.

“Sherlock? I didn’t know…”

“Why would you do that? What POSSIBLE reason would you have to do that?” Sherlock was speaking in that low, controlled, dangerous voice that made everyone assume he was an Alpha. “Especially with the level of Bond you two have, what–“

“WHY does everyone keep talking about the Bond we have? I didn’t even know that what I was feeling was the BOND! I thought it was just my hormones playing havoc on my wits!”

“Did Omega Moriarty say anything to you? I’m Doctor Melton, an expert on–”

“Oh, yes, Richard Melton, author of a decent paper on the hormone fluctuations between Bond pairs, and a ridiculous paper on Omega psychology,” Sherlock sniffed. “I spoke with Jim a great deal–I HOPE he realizes he can come to me for help, but it’s more likely he went back to his compatriots, in which case, as a newly revealed Omega, he’s in great danger.”

“We have a single CCTV record; I’d like you to–”

“Send it.”

Mycroft sighed and sent the file. He listened to Sherlock humming in a fashion he identified as annoyed.

“It’s perfectly clear, Mycroft. Why did you need me to look at it?”

Doctor Melton stated, “It’s not clear to us.”

“I don’t expect it to be clear to you, but I expect better of Mycroft–God knows why; he’s apparently allowed his mind to atrophy. Jim clearly arranged his escape; those two work for him. They probably have heard the rumors he was planning about an Omega brother–they look uneasy. All he has to do now is get in the car, but his Alpha is back in the building and he wants to go back and–”

“He what?”

“You threw him in a cell, Mycroft. His biology is screaming at him to go back and lick your neck and try to make you take him back. An Omega who’s been abandoned or separated from his Alpha is in a precarious position; he is obviously fighting the urge to run back to you. He told the guard to get a sedative; the guard argued with him, he made him back down–”

“How could an Omega make him back down?” Doctor Melton asked in a confused voice.

“Because he’s used to it, unlike most of the over-socialized houseplants you meet in high society,” Sherlock snorted and continued, “The Beta got the sedative, Jim voluntarily took it, but as it took effect his willpower lapsed and he struggled to go back to his Alpha. Perfectly clear, I don’t see why you needed me for this.”

“I… He was very clear he didn’t want me,” Mycroft said finally.

“He was angry, and neither of you wanted it to begin with. As I said however, when I offered my help neither of you wanted to break it.” Sherlock paused before he continued, “Of course, the odds of breaking a telepathic level Bond is–”

“What?!” Mycroft yelped and stared at the phone in disbelief.

“Telepathic? That must be in error.” Mycroft distantly heard Doctor Melton say.

“No, Jim told me he was getting flashes of telepathy–intermittent, of course: the Bond wasn’t fully established since he wasn’t truly in heat. He referred to it as a fairy tale Bond, and, like any Omega, he understood exactly what the implications of such a strong Bond are. The odds of being able to break it are miniscule.”

Anthea frowned, “You two seemed to be remarkably in sync from very early on, and he did come out of the bedroom when things heated up in the meeting, and seemed to know exactly what to do…”

Mycroft whispered, “He knew about you. I thought he had deduced it…” He ran over all the times that James had seemed to know too much _– I had put it down to deduction ability_ – and shook his head. “I didn’t intend to harm him. He has to be found before anything further happens.”

“Make up your mind, Mycroft!” Sherlock snapped. “If you don’t want the Bond, then separating you is the only way it will have even a chance to fade. If you go after him then you damn well better be apologizing, bringing him food, and planning to stay with him.”

Mycroft was silent for a long time. Anthea watched him worriedly, and even the doctor seemed a bit concerned.

“I don’t know what I want,” he said finally.

Sherlock sighed, “You had a chance at a Bond mate who was actually your equal, Mycroft, and you threw it away because you never could abide sentiment or weakness. If you ask me, you should go running after him and grovel, assuming you can look up what the word means.”

The bare statement of what he’d had, and what he’d done, felt like a knife in the gut. “I couldn’t run after him even if I tried, Sherlock! I have no idea where he is!”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous, Mycroft. If you can’t find him with the normal resources at your disposal just wait until he wakes up. If you keep calm and controlled he likely won’t be able to read you, and you should be able to pick up enough clues on the Bond to figure out where he is.”

“Is… Is that possible?” Mycroft snapped at the doctor.

“It’s quite possible. Even weaker Bonds can quite often tell where their Bond mate IS, assuming they are close enough,” Doctor Melton nodded.

Mycroft pulled himself up and took several deep breaths– _I’d caused this problem, probably harmed him severely, it was up to me to resolve it_ – “I’ll want every good resource on Omegas, Bonds, and related topics on my desk or sent to my computer. I need to spend some time in meditation, so that I’m ready when his sedative wears off.”

Anthea schooled herself to show nothing, although she was certain Mycroft knew how painful this was. She looked him in the eyes, “I’ll work with Sherlock on gathering what resources he suggests, since he seems to understand your mate so well.”

 _I love you._ She let her eyes linger on his before she nodded and went off to gather the needed materials. She could never be his Bond mate–she’d always known that–but she would always be loyal.

“Thank you,” Mycroft bowed his head slightly. “Sherlock, do you have any idea where to start?”

“As I said, if he doesn’t contact me? No.” Sherlock sounded dubious, “Although if you’re SERIOUS this time I can suggest several books, very few on the official MORS reading list are worth anything.”

“Do you think he’ll come back on his own?”

“Certainly not, would you?”

“No.”

“I hope the CCTV cameras narrow down your search: otherwise, the range question will be an issue,” Sherlock admitted.

“I’m going to find him,” Mycroft stated. “I owe him an apology.”

Sherlock snorted, “At the very least, Mycroft. Don’t be surprised if he shoots at you.”

“He had his chance before.”

“Yes, well, you’ve given him more incentive. Good luck.” Sherlock hung up, and Mycroft set down to research.

*

Sherlock stared into space for several minutes.

"John?  Set up the tea, will you? I need to write a blog post."


	10. My blood just wants to say hello to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Many Betas show signs of vestigial Alpha or Omega organs. Once this was discovered, a large number of government and NGOs attempted to force the expression of the Alpha gender in their Beta population with an eye toward creating Alpha soldiers on demand– a sort of “Super Soldier Serum” research. Thus far all of these projects have failed spectacularly.” – Captain America and the Alpha Super Soldier Myth by Dr. Michael Butler, PhD
> 
> “While many people would love to claim that all Beta Males are “unexpressed Alphas” and all Beta Females are “unexpressed Omegas” it is not the case – vestigial Omega organs and unexpressed genetics are found in Betas of both primary genders.” Excerpt from the new edition of the Knight’s Forensic Pathology textbook.

Jim woke up with a pounding headache. Before he opened his eyes, he realized he was in a strange room that had a number of fans running, and smelled of a popular–and ineffective, in Jim’s opinion–scent-masking agent. _Well, the bed was comfortable and he wasn’t restrained._

He opened his eyes; the lights were dim. There was a bedside table with a bottle of water, a meal bar, and a bottle of paramecetol. Jim eventually placed the room as the guard’s room in one of his safehouses. _If I’m in one of my safehouses, why the hell am I in the guard’s room?_ He sat up and looked down at himself: he was in the clothes he’d had–

 _Sherlock… Mycroft… Alpha, my Alpha locked me away_ … He bit back on a cry.

His shoes were by the side of the bed, as was his sweater, shirt, and belt. So someone had put him to bed as if he was drunk–or drugged, which he had been–but not undressed him completely. He couldn’t smell anything useful over the damned room spray, and, yes, there was a fan running on exhaust in the window–with an air freshener and scent neutralizer sitting in front of it… _Smart, no one will be following Omega scent in from the fan, then. So, whoever put me in here was smart, and believed I was an Omega from the cover stories._

 _Worrisome, but nothing much to do about it now._ He was eating the meal bar when there was a knock at the door.

“Boss? You awake?” _Moran. That was Sebastian’s voice._

Jim’s first response was relief. “Yes, I’m awake. Where the hell am I?” It was only after he spoke that he realized the problem: Sebastian Moran was an Alpha–a military Alpha, a spectacularly wonderfully aggressive man that Jim called his Tiger for the way he moved–and one of the few people who knew who the real Jim Moriarty was on sight… _and he HAD to have smelled me._

The door opened and Jim forced himself not to flinch, just lay back on the bed with his water bottle and raised an eyebrow at Sebastian as he came in.

The exhaust fan pulled Sebastian’s scent right to him. _Alpha… but not my Bond mate_. Jim reflexively bristled. _Great, a strange Alpha and my Alpha abandoned me. Shit, I need to get my suppressants back._

“I… uh… put you in my room because it was smaller and had a more controllable airflow” he finally said.

“Good idea.” Jim just looked at him. Sebastian fidgeted more.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Which house are we in?” Jim asked. Sebastian told him. _Oh, thank God. I have a stash of suppressants here._

“Yeah, there’s a bottle of pills taped to the underside of the kitchen sink. I need that.”

He just nodded and went out, leaving the door open. He came back after a minute and hesitantly held out the pills. “I, um… I don’t think I should come in. When I put you to bed it was… Did you actually ask them to sedate you?”

“You’re making less sense than usual, Tiger.” Jim held up a hand and Sebastian tossed him the pill bottle. He took a pill out and swallowed it. _Actually, he was behaving better than I might have expected._

“I had to shoot a couple of them. It’s a good thing I decided to go to the transfer myself.”

Jim’s jaw tightened. “Oh? Who?” _And how far did they get? Damn it._

Sebastian answered the unspoken question as well. “One of the boys who picked you up and one of the Alphas at the transfer were getting handsy, but hadn’t gotten too far: I shot them. No one else was stopping them, but I figured I’d get them cleaned up later. I said you were Moriarty’s baby brother and brought you back here.” He shifted his weight again. “Your cover story said your ‘brother’ bonded a high ranking Alpha, but then you had to be retrieved…?”

“Get out,” he said without any particular emphasis. “I need a shower and a change of clothes, and I’ll explain it over food.”

Sebastian spun on his heel and left. _Good, he was still obeying orders: that’s something._

*

_He acted normal? I mean, he acted the way he always acted, which wasn’t exactly normal, but it was normal for him…_

Sebastian paced warily and tried not to obsess over the food order. _I am not feeding my Omega, I’m ordering food for my boss who… never eats enough and he was hurt…_ Sebastian shook his head hard _. Stop it…._ Eventually, Moriarty came out, and between the shower and the neutral scented bodywash…

 _Neutral scent body wash, he kept that in EVERY safehouse and flat._ “Oh… I’d thought you kept that on hand for Alphas…”

He just gave Sebastian the usual “God, you’re stupid” look and stalked past him to the table.

“I wasn’t sure how your stomach was, so I ordered a mix of stuff…” Sebastian honestly didn’t know what to do. _I mean, he was an OMEGA for God’s sake… and someone had pretty obviously worked him over… and he was bonded… and he’s MORIARTY! And what the hell am I supposed to do…?_

“Stop trying to think, Tiger: you may be better than most of the idiots, but you’re still aggravating me.”

“You, uh, sound like yourself, Sir.”

“How else should I sound?” he snapped.

“Have you always… I mean obviously… but…” Moriarty was narrowing his eyes and Sebastian suddenly had the sensation of a snake about to strike. He took a step backwards and tried to look less threatening.

Moriarty suddenly burst out laughing–which didn’t necessarily mean anything good–and asked, “Are you honestly trying not to threaten me with your oh-so-intimidatingly Alpha presence?”

“Actually, I’m hoping you don’t kill me,” Sebastian blurted out.

He grinned, “Oh, that’s all right then,” and went back to eating.

There was a rather uncomfortable silence until he finally snapped, “If you didn’t eat already, Sebastian, get over and eat something, otherwise get out–the constant hovering is getting on my nerves!”

Sebastian slunk over and sat down. After a few bites of food, he finally worked up the nerve to ask, “Uh, Boss? Can I ask…?”

“You may as well: I can hear the questions rattling around in your head from here.”

“You’ve always been ? I mean, they didn’t… do anything to you?”

He stopped with a spoon halfway to his mouth and stared at him. “You… think they found a way to TURN a Beta into an Omega?”

“Well, I mean… you hear stuff…” It sounded daft when he said it. “There was a paper a few years ago taking about latent gene expressions…” Sebastian looked down at his food. “It sounded weird, but it was in one of the science reviews…”

Moriarty looked thoughtful, “Well, yes, there was that paper... Alright, I suppose it’s not entirely idiotic. Yes, I’ve always been an Omega, and as soon as I could get on suppressants I did, and then I invented some of my own. Unfortunately, being tortured…”

“They CAN’T torture an Omega!” Sebastian was just horrified. _I mean, shit, they never even pulled that stuff in Afghanistan. There was a scary amount of rape and forced bonding, but who would be sick enough to torture an Omega?!_

“Well, it’s not like they knew I was one,” he said calmly as he went back to eating.

After a slight pause, he continued, “Sherlock pretty much agreed with my assessment: my biology overrode the suppressants trying to protect myself.” His mouth twisted up in a fashion that usually meant someone was going to be messily dead soon. “God damned biology!” he spat out.

“Wait… you… bonded to Sherlock?”

He started laughing, a bit brokenly, “No, curse the luck! Turns out he’s a Beta–who knew? Apparently, a big scandal in his two-bit noble family–nothing but noble genders good enough!”

“You… You smell bonded, and the story…” Sebastian gritted his teeth, “So is this something you… planned?”

“No.” Moriarty gave him one of those flat looks that could mean anything, and then sat back with a sigh. “Tiger, if I was GOING to choose to bond with an Alpha–or have anything to do with one, really–you would have been on the short list.”

“Me?” Sebastian blinked and then winced, “Was it that obvious that–”

“You were jealous as fuck? Or that you always had an interest in me and couldn’t resolve that with being a terribly straight Alpha?”

 _Well, if he’s gonna shoot me, he’s gonna shoot me_. “Yeah, either one.”

“It was pretty obvious you were jealous, and yes, I knew that you were interested. Now let me ask you a question: how can I have sex with an Alpha, or even a halfway observant Beta Male, without it becoming pretty damned obvious I’m an Omega?”

Sebastian stared at him. “Oh, shit.”

He flashed that razor-edged grin, “Exactly–I can’t. Second question: how well would it work if the infamous Moriarty–not the imaginary baby brother, not a trick, not an actor playing the role in public, but the real Moriarty–was discovered to be an Omega?”

“I think we both know that,” Sebastian almost whispered.

“So, unfortunately, I’m stuck,” Moriarty growled. “And my darling Alpha,” he snarled sarcastically, “locked me in a cell while he tried to figure out how to get rid of me.”

“So who is he? I’ll shoot him: end of problem.”

“Mycroft Holmes.”

Sebastian dropped his fork. “Fuck!”

“Well, yes, that was involved, although I don’t remember much of it. The interrogators had been acting weird for days, and they finally called Holmes back in. He walked into a cloud of pheromones and went feral–I went feral in response.”

Sebastian thought about it. “He’s gotta leave that building sometime. If he goes anywhere with a decent line of sight, I can hit him.”

“I know you could, Tiger.” He sighed morosely, “I never knew it could happen, but, apparently, we have an unequal Bond.”

“Huh?”

“I always thought a Bond had to be equal, you know? Apparently not. I have a damn near telepathic Bond, and he apparently can just toss me in a cell and walk off.” He put his head down on the table. “I’m afraid you can’t shoot him, at least until the Bond starts wearing off.”

“I didn’t know that was even POSSIBLE!” Sebastian wanted to kill the son of a bitch. _Here was the ONE Omega that wasn’t a simpering helpless thing, and Mycroft Holmes didn’t even appreciate him? As soon as Jim gives the go-ahead, I’m putting a bullet through his brain–good riddance._

“Neither did I. Bastard really is made of ice,” Moriarty muttered darkly into the table top, staring at the food moodily.

Just then Sebastian’s pocket buzzed. He frowned and pulled his phone out. _A notification of a new post on The Science Of Deduction–Sherlock’s blog…_

“Boss? Sherlock just posted on his blog, you said he knows you’re an Omega? Would he publish that?”

“If he did, I’ll skin him myself,” Moriarty was hissing, heading to the computer. It made Sebastian worry how unsteady he was on his feet. _I probably shouldn’t have left him alone in the shower_. “He was unexpectedly understanding and supportive when we went to the flat, though…”

He pulled up the blog and started reading, then sat back suddenly with a surprised look. “Well… That’s… unexpected.”


	11. And that's what they don't know...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For people familiar only with the usual Alpha and Omega behavior, feral behavior can come as a shock. The usual depictions of ‘feral’ behavior in the Secondary Genders are true, but only up to a point. For example: under most conditions feral Omegas merely display ingratiating and highly sexualized behavior, licking and presenting to try to influence an Alpha into mating and protective behavior– people are usually prepared for that, or for the typical Alpha Rut and protective stance. Under extreme stress or threat, however, the feral behavior changes. If threatened in the absence of an Alpha, or if their Alpha is injured, or if pregnant members of the community are threatened by a strange Alpha, the feral Omega will react with stunning displays of ferocity.” – Excerpt from Médecins Sans Frontières’ handbook on Alpha/Omega treatment.

The Science of Deduction

I recently had a number of cases in which almost all of the problems came down to the lamentable lack of education about basic biology. Most of these cases are of necessity intensely private and thus not discussed on John Watson’s blog with my more public cases, but this last incident simply proves that people not only have next to no information about other genders, but in many cases a lack of knowledge about their own gender as well!

I have had Beta Males and Females who arrive at my doorstep with no understanding of basic birth control or biology. Cases presented to me as “mysterious” that are no more mysterious than “yes, you can get pregnant at that time/doing things that way/even the first time”. That this lack of education continues even into the ranks of police and government officials is unquestionably responsible for the lack of enforcement in gender and sex related crimes, as well as the passage of laws which make little or no logical sense.

Individuals who supposedly went to reasonable schools who stand up in public and announce proudly that they do not understand such simple topics as menstruation should be viewed with shock and horror, not shared as stories of other men who lack a basic understanding of “feminine hygiene products” and basic biology. Females are hardly a rarity, and there is simply no excuse for anyone lacking a basic knowledge of what half the population requires in order to function in modern society. For the record, the Primary Male and Female anatomies can be looked up via any decent search engine and in this case even Wikipedia gives a fairly good account of why menstruation is not equivalent to urination. Educate yourselves if your schools are so pathetic as to leave any doubt in your mind about this basic fact.

-

Given that basic Primary Gender knowledge appears to be a myth in most Private schools, it should not surprise me that the Secondary Genders are even more poorly understood. Since they cannot manage educating people on Primary Genders, Secondary Genders are an unknowable mystery to most of the population of England. I had therefore resigned myself that most Betas would have no understanding of Alpha or Omega biology, and that part of my task in assessing any case would be determining just HOW much basic education would need to be imparted to Betas who should know better, such as the police. Surely Alphas and Omegas must be getting educated on their Genders from family, private tutors, or the better class of education in public schools that the upper classes attend.

No, apparently not.

After a recent case, I have been confronted with my own unwarranted optimism regarding the state of education in the upper classes, as well as the stunning lack of knowledge in most of the Alphas and Omegas in Britain. I have become accustomed to Omegas who have been pulled from school and kept uneducated, and hence have next to no knowledge about their own biology (a situation causing needless stress and terror in a number of Omegas), but I have never before been confronted with an ALPHA who had so little understanding of their own biology! After dealing with this case, I began to research in several chat groups and found to my dismay that there are a large number of Alphas ‘educating’–and I use that term sarcastically–each other online because they have received not even the barest education on their own Secondary Gender!

My recent client was intelligent enough that I would have expected him to fill in any gaps in his education by himself, but apparently he assumed what I had also assumed until recently: that the information being presented in the public schools frequented by most Alphas in Britain is sufficient. Since it is not, allow me to put forward in plain language what my Alpha and Omega clients–and others–apparently did not get in grade school:

  * Alphas and Omegas are not the caricatures portrayed in the media. They are real people with a wide variety of interests, intelligence, and needs. The biology cannot be denied or completely overridden, but we are all more than “just” our reproductive organs. (That I have to state that is appalling)
  * Omega Males, being the failsafe version of the human reproductive drive, can BOTH become pregnant from Alpha Males AND sire children in Beta Females. Apparently ~~some~~ many Male Omegas and Beta Females are unaware of this fact.
  * Alpha Females, are rare, both because the genetics are often detrimental, and because of prejudice and targeted murder. Most sensible Alpha Females hide their Secondary Gender for this reason. However, yes, they can (rarely) impregnate an Omega. (The reports of a successful birth between an Alpha and Beta Female pair have not been confirmed by me at this time.)
  * An Omega Female can become pregnant when she is not in heat, even though an Omega Male cannot.
  * Heats, while typically quite obvious, CAN be very mild; more than one Omega has found themselves pregnant after a mild Heat! Reports of a Male Omega becoming pregnant while not in Heat are likely attributable to this fact.
  * Bonds can form outside of Heat, although usually much more weakly; it is rare, but possible.
  * Bonds are not text messages! They’re things you FEEL, SENSE, and apparently have to have the self-awareness of a cabbage to notice.  
(It is apparently quite possible for a poorly educated and repressed individual to convince themselves that what they are feeling along a Bond is merely their own hormones and anxiety, and thus believe they are not Bonded, right up to the moment something drastic occurs–in one memorable case, not realizing their anxiety was because their Bond Mate was injured until after they passed out.)
  * Alpha instincts are apparently appallingly poor, such that Alphas are reduced to asking the most incredibly BASIC questions online of other Alphas! I have yet to see quite such lamentable conditions among Omegas, but it may be that I simply haven’t found those chat rooms.
  * While we are all more than our reproductive organs, some information is generally true, and it seems that people are being taught ridiculous idiocy as fact–Omegas are not less intelligent, merely often less educated–while not being taught basic matters that are critical, such as the Omega’s need for social contact. (And yes, this is a fact, having to do with basic biology. Even an introverted Omega needs some social contact, especially post-bonding.)
  * NO, an Omega is not better off with just “any Alpha”; anyone who believes that should immediately head to the altar and marry just ANY desperate member of their preferred gender and see how that works out.
  * NO, an Omega doesn’t need to mate with an Alpha. That sort of nonsense–popularized by innumerable poorly-written novels–is a holdover from the equally ridiculous ideas that a Female without a Male will obviously die of her internal organs atrophying or wandering about in her body or some such. Especially with modern suppressants, an Omega can live quite comfortably without an Alpha.
  * Suppressants do not turn Omegas into Betas; they merely allow for reasonable management of the Heat cycle and the pheromones that otherwise make public life difficult for them.
  * There are Alpha suppressants. They do not make Alphas any less Alpha, they simply allow for better management of the Alpha pheromones, temper and Rut. Their lack of acceptance in most societies is entirely due to the ridiculous idea that they make Alphas somehow less “masculine”. This puts most of the weight of social interaction on the Omega, in much the same way–and for the same ridiculous reasons–that reliable birth control is so often left to Females.
  * The utterly ridiculous idea that the Bond is a perfect, magical, and completely intuitive cure for all issues has devastated a number of otherwise promising relationships and careers. There are far too few Bond counselors, but they do exist. Given the horrid state of modern education on the matter, I am of the opinion they should be mandated for all new Bonds, but in the absence of that I advise all of you to read the handful of reliable books on the subject, preferably before your new Bond Mate understandably walks out the door with hopefully sympathetic friends.



-

I had previously declared that I was the least qualified individual in the world to be a Bond counselor, but, after seeing firsthand the idiocy even otherwise intelligent people are guilty of due to lack of education and stubborn ignorance, I am tempted to hang out my shingle! In any event, I shall continue the Sisyphean task of assisting individuals who find themselves at my door.

Sherlock Holmes

-

See my reference section for books and webpages I suggest as being at least tolerable.

*

John Watson read Sherlock’s blog quietly to himself, wincing. “Uh… Well, at least you finally posted something that isn’t about ash characteristics…”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Well, it was aimed at Mycroft and Jim, of course, but a great deal of that has been irritating me for some time.”

“Well, it’s… uh… sharp,” John said, trying not to use the words “incendiary” or “Mycroft is going to kill you”.

“Good.”

“Maybe you should let me tone it down a bit?”

“Why?”

“It’s going to get some people rather upset.”

“I thought you had recently pointed out that no one reads my blog, and that your more approachable style is why they read yours?”

“Well, yes, there is that. It probably won’t get around much.”

“The two people who need to see it will see it, and they’ll get more out of it than just the fact that I’m annoyed.”

*

Mycroft got the text notification that Sherlock had posted a blog entry; he’d been ignoring it until he suddenly remembered exactly how LITTLE tact and sense of politics his baby brother possessed, at which point he left off the CCTV search with what most of his underlings saw as uncharacteristic hurry and retreated to his office to read it.

He spent the next two minutes swearing in eight languages and then put his head down into his hands and called for tea.

 _At least most people would never associate that with me_ , he thought morosely. After a while, he reassured himself with the fact that very few people had read his brother’s blog after the forty page dissertation on liver enzymes.

He realized JIM would unquestionably read it shortly after that and contemplated putting something much, much stronger in his tea cup.

*

“Well… That’s… unexpected,” Jim Moriarty said as he sat back, blinking.

“I’m still getting through the acid burns on my screen,” Sebastian was grinning. “He’s gone on a proper rant, hasn’t he?”

Jim looked over at Sebastian speculatively. “Is it true?”

“Uh… You’d know better than me, Sir!”

“Oh, I know what he’s talking about–I know WHO he’s talking about–what I want to know is if it’s true that even posh school educated Alphas get such a poor education.”

“Well, I’m not the best person to ask–”

“You went to Eton and Oxford, Sebie. Your father may refuse to speak to you, but don’t imagine for one moment that I hired you without knowing everything there was to know about you.” Jim glared at him and Sebastian backed up quickly. “Besides, you give it away in a hundred different ways–now answer my question.”

Sebastian gulped and broke eye contact. “I learned more about Alphas and Omegas in the military from the refugee workers and the interpreters and the Médecins Sans Frontières people than I ever did in school,” he admitted quietly, “and what I got from my father was complete garbage.” He hesitated and then went on. “After I started working for you I started reading more, which is how I read the science article on Betas that I mentioned? Anyway, yeah, it’s pretty accurate…”

“Well, he took Mycroft pretty well to task,” Jim mused, “AND offered his continued help. I can’t really go back there, of course, not with Mycroft watching.”

“I get the feeling you got more from this than I did?”

Jim blinked at him and rolled his neck in that eerily serpentine manner he had. “Unquestionably–I always do–but I take it you didn’t get the messages then?”

“Now that you’ve said it, I assume he offered help?”

“As I said, he was unexpectedly supportive and understanding.” Jim shrugged. “He even suggested a brand of meal replacement shake that was pretty easy to tolerate, and he took my side over Mycroft’s, which I really didn’t expect.”

“He DID?”

“Yes. The basic message is that Mycroft is an undereducated idiot despite his intellect and didn’t know anything I would expect him to know. The ‘recent case’ was him… He apparently had no idea that locking me up in the cell was that bad for me, and he WAS getting a high level of Bond, but believed it was his imagination and hormones playing tricks on him.” Jim tilted his head and looked at Sebastian as though he was going to bite him. “Is that possible? Seriously?”

“I have no idea,” Sebastian answered honestly. He checked the blog post on his phone again, and Jim tapped his foot impatiently while he read it over. “Sherlock said a repressed individual… Would Mycroft Holmes be repressed? Sherlock sure seems to be, from what I’ve seen…” _Of course, if this level of snark is what he was repressing it might be for the best; still, it was a rippingly good read_ … Sebastian grinned again, imagining his father and the other snobs reading this.

“Sherlock is repressed because he’s trying to fit into an angelic box. Mycroft is the most tightly controlled, repressed, restricted, and uptight individual I’ve ever met.” Jim snorted, and then grinned wickedly, “Even before this all happened, I rather wanted to see if I could make him come unglued…” He shook his head. “But you think he might have actually been denying that what he felt was the Bond?”

Sebastian shoved down the green jealousy and answered, “I guess? Especially since you two are on opposite sides, he might not have wanted to sympathize with the enemy? But that’s a guess.”

“Did you honestly not know about how bad shoving an Omega in a cell would be?”

“Sir, I knew, but I knew that because of the war, and the war crimes briefings and so on… No, I never heard anything about it in school, and my father never told me much about Omegas that bears repeating.”

Jim nodded slowly. “He closes with my leaving the building–so, obviously, I didn’t manage to erase all the camera feeds–he hopes I am actually safe with my guards and people–which I almost wasn’t, do make a note to have the rest of those men shot, Sebastian–and ends with a renewed offer to help me out and take me in if needed, but admits that Mycroft is a complication.”

“You got all that from this?”

“I got a great deal MORE from it, but that’s what you need to know.” Jim turned back to the computer. “I’ll leave a reply so he knows I’m safe somewhere, and then we need to start dealing with the business fallout.”

“Yes, Sir.” _It’s easy enough to ignore the fact that he’s an Omega when he can back me down with a glare, but…_ “Errr… Sir?”

“Yes?” he said distractedly as he typed.

“Until those suppressants kick back in, you… um… may want to take more frequent showers.”

“Once we get back to one of the other flats I can get out the better scent blockers.” Jim sighed, “These are alright, but I have specific Omega scent blockers.”

Sebastian nodded and went off to arrange things. _I hope they work better, because I mostly want to scrub that Alpha’s scent off you and get mine all over you_. He got out his shooting range gloves and deliberately sniffed the scent of firing ranges and guns. It helped a little.

*

Sherlock read the second comment on his blog–the first one was the obligatory idiot typing “First!”–and smiled. “He’s safe, John, although it sounds like he ran into a spot of trouble.”

“Oh?” John looked at the comment and scratched his head. “I’m glad you got that, I didn’t. Are you sure that’s him?”

“YES, John,” Sherlock said in a fondly exasperated tone.

The notification on his blog pinged again; Sherlock startled.

You mean Alpha’s are really that clueless?– _Opositive_

Sherlock was typing a response when–Ping!

I didn’t get told anything, my mate and I had to figure it out as we went along. _Pubmaster0536_

Sherlock stared at it and looked at John. John was frowning with those wrinkles between his eyebrows when–Ping!

Found this from the keyword alerts. GOD it’s about time someone said something! I got pregnant in school from my Omega boyfriend and he refused to believe he was the father until they did a paternity test! He’d been told he couldn’t have kids with a beta girl, so we didn’t use anything. It worked out, I mean, we’re married now, but he gets so much shit if anyone finds out he’s an Omega, its awful.– _Anonymous_

Sherlock had just put his fingers to the keys when–Ping!

Your stupid– _SlurpyGuy_

You’re– _Sherlock Holmes_

Then–just as Sherlock blocked him–Ping!

Ditto the keyword alert, I didn’t know half of this and I’m in Medical School! What if I get an Alpha or Omega patient?– _Sleeplessinphilly32_

After that, John and Sherlock could only sit back in shock as it became an avalanche of comments. Sometime after they went to bed for the night, it was re-shared on Gawker, Salon, and Huffington Post…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahem, yes we started with NIN A perfect Drug... and now we add in Taylor Swifts "Shake it off"  
> the mash up video is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhvXST1Rc3g
> 
> my hope for this series is that someday it's considered a reference work for other people writing A/B/O/ fiction...  
> comments are gold!


	12. My ex-man brought his new girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There seems to be in society an assumed negative sum game; that the rights of one group can only come at the expense of another. With the rise of women’s equality¬– by no means concluded– there has been a corresponding push back against Omegas, as if the Female, being freed from subjugation, must be replaced at the bottom by the Omega. In the same vein, the Irish immigrant– once considered barely more than an animal– has been replaced in society with the new wave of immigrants, and the Irish-American now oppresses them.” An excerpt from “Politics, Sociology, and the Perpetuation of Prejudice”.

Mycroft had thrown himself into searching for Jim, and using the full resources at his command to do it.  While it was in fact personal, he could justify it as being imperative to regain control of the criminal and terrorist network, which was certainly his business.  Based on how long it took them to find even a clue, the entire system needed to be re-worked.

The two men who had picked him up did an initially good job of covering their tracks, but as they drove away had become more erratic, and sloppier. His concerns about why were confirmed when he finally found a single distant camera that had picked up the hand-off from car to van: the driver, at least, was being distracted by Jim’s scent now that he wasn’t using suppressants.

They met the van in someplace that really shouldn’t be observed, it was pure luck that one of the longer range CCTV cameras had been turned askew, likely by vandals. Mycroft watched with fear–and no small amount of fury– as a collection of criminals dragged a clearly unconscious Jim from the car into the back of the van.  He could see several of them crowding around him and it didn’t take his deductive skills to see what was about to happen.

 _This was over long ago: whatever happened to him I can’t stop it._ Mycroft had rarely felt so helpless. _This is my Omega; I should be protecting him… No, he shouldn’t even be in this position to need protecting_ , he reminded himself grimly.

When a man came racing up on a motorcycle and almost instantly shot two of them, it was a momentary relief, but he had no idea who this was, or what they might do to an unconscious Omega.  He apparently drove off the rest of them; then put his motorcycle in the van, and loaded Jim in the passenger seat.

Mycroft went over it a few times.  Whoever this was all he could get was an estimated height and build –tall, probably six foot or slightly more, and medium framed with significant musculature – and hair color–blond. Mycroft observed the stance as best he could, cursing the camera limitations.  He drew and fired smoothly, hit efficiently, and didn’t flinch; his stance said military.

 _Probably an Alpha_ , Mycroft realized with a chill, _a military Alpha_.

He went over the short amount of film that covered the Alpha loading Jim into the van several times, getting every bit of information he could.  Then he tried to follow the van away and it became immediately obvious that whoever THIS man was– Alpha or not– he wasn’t driving distracted.  He dodged every camera possible.

The strange Alpha had picked Jim up with care and buckled him into the passenger seat as if he was his own Omega. Jim had been unbonded, obviously: equally obviously he hadn’t WANTED to be bonded. _Was this… was this Jim’s Alpha?_

 _Mine! Mine! Mine! MY Omega!_ Mycroft forced himself to push the instinctive reactions aside.  Jim…. Jim had a life, obviously, before Mycroft–aside from Mycroft.  He may very well have had a lover, Alpha or not. _He isn’t good enough for Jim! Who else could keep up with him? What other person was…_

He clenched his hands and pulled himself together, _He was obviously better for him than I was._

Mycroft put out a full alert on that van– certain it was far too late– and sent people looking for bodies near the hand off point.

*

Jim didn’t check on Sherlock’s blog the next day, since he wasn’t set up to be notified about comments, just posts.  Sebastian had mostly behaved–far better than he might have expected really– but kept a clear distance and kept retreating to sniff at things from his rifle bag. After a short time he sent him out to one of the other locations with instructions on how to find the better scent blockers he had hidden there.

Once Sebastian was gone he allowed himself ten minutes to come unglued.  He spent most of it rocking back and forth whining.

 _Mycroft, why the FUCK did it have to be him?_ The problem was Sherlock was right, Mycroft was smart enough to be worth talking to, and unlike most of the other Alphas didn’t treat him like he was a complete moron just because of his gender.  Mycroft even apparently had some comprehension of the arts–at least cooking and music– which Jim never expected in an Alpha.

But…

If your average Alpha was a brute with all the emotional sensitivity of a cave dwelling, chest beating, “my Omega, stay home, be pretty!”– Mycroft had none at all. 

 _The bastard was probably smugly ordering me to be shot on sight, or trying to retrieve him now that he KNEW he could break me, and here I was whimpering in corner_.

“Fuck him.” Jim snarled to himself, which was a mistake because he immediately started imagining what it would be like, some time when he wasn’t in pain, deprived of sleep, and half starved.  He was tall and broad like any Alpha, but with a bit more padding, and Jim remembered him as being warm, and comfortable to sleep on…

“STOP IT!” he hissed, “he’s the REASON you were in pain, sleep deprived and half-starved you idiot!”

*

Mycroft’s men found the bodies quickly enough.  Whoever this Alpha was he hit them both with deadly accuracy for a rapid draw and fire. Their identities were in the system, although that might not help much.  Mycroft’s people were tracing the car and the van as best they could.

Then they had a break.  One of the men found the van in a parking garage, with the motorcycle still in the back.  Mycroft gave firm orders to plant trackers and get out. He started running the plates on the van, and the motorcycle.  The van tracked back to a business that Mycroft was certain was just a holding company, but the motorcycle…

The motorcycle was registered to an individual.

The identity was fake– a good fake, but fake– but the fact that it was registered to a PERSON gave Mycroft a lever.  He began a brute force back search through all street cameras for that motorcycle.

And he waited.

He only knew he had dozed off because one of his people quietly put down a cup of tea and sandwich next to him.

“Sorry, I must have dozed off, when is it, and do we have any progress?”

“We have some progress, Sir, but you also have a rather irate MP on the line.”

“When do I NOT have one?” Mycroft sipped his tea and picked up the phone.

Mycroft listened to the usual threats, whines, and demands for his job– or his head– that he got at least twice a week.

“Of course he escaped, we wanted him to.” Mycroft lied, a bored tone to his voice.

“What?” the MP sputtered, “you mean you LET him GO?!”

“No. We suspected a spy in the system, and therefore he was used as bait.  It turns out his brother is the real mastermind, of course, you couldn’t expect an Omega to run things…” _Bless Jim for coming up with that, it was going to make everything so much easier._ “So we watched to see who would leak information about his being bonded, and try to retrieve him:  someone did, they did,  and now we are following the trail to round up as much of the gang, and the actual mastermind, as possible.” Mycroft did his best to sound bored and mildly annoyed, not frantic.

The idiot muttered a lot about nonsense and eventually Mycroft cut him off.

“Now if you will excuse me, I put MY Omega in harm’s way for this, and I need to retrieve him.”

He hung up and went to get the report.  He found a whole roomful of people watching a kiddie show.  He was starting to snap something when a second look froze him in his tracks– _that was JIM!  Well, it was a softer, gentler, casually dressed Jim playing with a group of puppets and some children, but…_

“Is that actually…?” He was certain his voice almost broke.

“Yes, sir. Facial recognition software confirms it. This individual, a man named Richard Brooks, is the same man we had in our cells as Jim Moriarty.”

Someone handed him an actor’s bio, head shots, and a description of the children’s show.  He looked it over, it was flawless.  This man was CLEARLY an Omega, soft, shy, an artist, able to project a bit on stage but not otherwise, good with children…

“How well does this identity hold up?” He stared at his team.

“Well it’s obvious this is the real one, sir, he IS an Omega…” Jimsen said. _Damned goldfish_.

“Bollocks.” A scholarly looking man–his name was Mattison and he worked in observation– said calmly. “It’s fake from start to finish.  Moriarty just hit all the expected Omega cues; this persona is an act, a stereotype of the non-noble ‘found Omega’.  There are things people expect of Omegas and he hit every one of them.”

“Well he is an Omega, of course he–”

Mycroft snorted, “He’s an Omega, and hard as a diamond. He withstood everything we threw at him and then some.”

“I thought that was an act? That our interrogators were taking it easy on him…?”

Mattison shook his head, “They only took it easy on him the last few days, and as far as I can tell that was after whatever suppressants he was on failed and they could smell him.”

Mycroft stared at him, “You were one of the men on observation duty…. Were you the one who triggered the lock down?” _Something was odd; he was hiding something– a bit nervous…_

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good job, Mattison, I would have killed someone who walked in.”

“I admit I never pictured you feral, sir.   However… this is an EXCELLENT fake identity. If you are going to keep spreading the lie that Moriarty had an Omega baby brother, this should be leaked heavily.”

Mycroft nodded, “ Everyone? Do it.  Mattison? Write up a report and meet me in my office.” He nodded, “Now, any news on the motorcycle or that identity?”

“Yes, sir,” one of his best people, a mousy blonde woman named Grey, reported, “I have his normal routine, a probable identity, other vehicles listed under names that he may be using… I believe you want this report with priority.”

Mycroft made a note to give her a raise. She was already one of his highest paid research agents, but this was extraordinary. He looked over the report quickly. She had assigned a very high likelihood that his actual identity was one Sebastian Moran, Alpha, disgraced sniper, and eldest son of Lord Augustus Moran. Mycroft called up all he could about the incident… which wasn’t much, military discipline not being his department.

“Excellent work, Ms. Grey, as always. Please get me a file on Sebastian Moran–”

“Already in process, Sir, and we have the cameras watching for him.”

He sent her suggested raise to Anthea to process, and nodded at Mattison, “My office, please.”

*

 _Sherlock’s sleeping in this morning_ , John noted as he rattled about making breakfast.  _Anyone would think I was his Omega the way I make do about here.  Of course they probably do, given my height._

The doorbell rang and John glanced at his watch, _A client? Well, you never knew…_

He went down and answered the door only to be confronted by a rather pushy individual in a cheap suit shoving a phone in his face.

“So are you and Sherlock Holms bonded?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake! We’re both Betas, so neither of us is ‘Bonded’ to anyone– as to the rest of it I’m not gay, and Sherlock is completely oblivious to all social cues if it’s not a case.  What are you on about now?”

“You’re a Beta?” the man said dubiously.”

“Would you like to see my dog tags?” John snapped at him, “Go away.” He slammed the door and stalked back upstairs.

“SHERLOCK! Some nancy reporter is at the door, what did you do now?”

Sherlock came out, impeccably dressed.  One of the few things he saw in common between the brothers. “What?”

“Some reporter rang the bell, shoved a recorder in my face and asked if we were bonded.”

“Is this… no, you’re not joking… why?”

“I have no idea.”

Sherlock went downstairs, John heard a commotion and then after a bit Sherlock came back upstairs looking like a puffed up cat–all he was missing was a bottlebrush tail.

“What on earth?”

“There are four reporters and some kind of a news car parked outside of our flat, and ALL of them started going off at me the moment I opened the door…” he took the cup of tea John had been making. “They were asking about Alphas, Omegas, and Bonds…”

“What? Why? We haven’t had a case about…” John trailed off.

“Except my brother.” Sherlock nodded, “and Jim.”

“But how would they have found out?”

“There might be a leak in my brother’s organization?”

“In which case he’s probably under siege! Luckily, most people don’t even know you two are related!”

Sherlock pulled out his phone and stated searching for news, and then froze. “John…I think… I think my blog may have gotten a bit more popular overnight…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my proof reader has been ill, so i must apologize for the grammatical errors and misspellings. i will try to catch up and edit as i go.
> 
> all chapter headings are from "perfect drug" or "shake it off" (so far)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhvXST1Rc3g Shake it off, perfect drug mash up


	13. Can’t Keep Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shakespeare wrote often on themes of love and marriage, so what is remarkable is how rarely he mentions the secondary genders at all. Many people, having seen portrayals where one of the characters is clearly intended to be an Alpha or an Omega, presume that this was written in to the stage direction, but it was rarely so. As an example: while one would usually think of a Female, who is described as especially short, being an Omega; in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ Hermia is described as being short…and a fierce fighter. Neither of the women in that play are named as Omegas or Betas in any way! It is left entirely up to the director–or reader– to decide if most of his characters are Alphas, Betas, or Omegas.” Excerpt from “The Secondary Genders In Classical Literature” – the Great Courses: English Literature.

Sebastian left to go retrieve the Omega scent blockers with a great deal of relief. He had no idea how much of this was psychological–he doubted Jim actually had such a strong scent  that repeated showers and the store bought blockers weren’t touching it–but it was driving him mad.

Jim Moriarty was an Omega. Jim– the man who could run fifteen plans, casually kill someone without interrupting his conference call, and back down goons twice his size–was an Omega. I mean sure, maybe the obsession with Glee was a clue, but he hadn’t HAD that before that Molly girl…

He got to the other safe house, found all the hidden items that should have told him ages ago that Moriarty was an Omega– _don’t be ridiculous, you would have assumed he was DATING an Omega_ – and stopped at a kiosk for a snack and a paper…

Sebastian skidded into the safehouse Moriarty was in with incautious speed and found Jim casually aiming a gun at him while talking to one of his people on the computer.

“What? No… just an employee trying to commit suicide Leo, do go on.”

Sebastian slunk over to the couch and waited.

After Jim was done, he closed down the laptop and sauntered over, “What pinched your tail, Tiger, you’re usually not that stupid.”

“Sorry, Sir.” He would have stood up, but Jim was already standing too close.  _How the fuck was he being intimidated and controlled by an Omega?_

“Whenever this is over with I’m burning down the school textbook company.” Sebastian grumbled, staring down at Jim’s shoes.

“What?”

“Everything I was ever told about Omegas is a load of–”

“Ah,” Jim nodded, “Mostly, yes, but to some degree those of us who work in society learn to play it to our advantage, one way or another.” He stepped back and let Sebastian get up, “Either you play the simpering coquette and get people to give you things, or you learn how to play the game the other way and take things.”

“Right, well… Remember Sherlock’s blog post?”

Jim looked puzzled, “yes.”

“It went viral. EVERYONE picked it up, and then the usual people started screaming at each other over it, and it’s got people talking about it and interviewing people. There’s even a bunch of newsies camped outside Baker Street.”

“What?!” Jim stared at him like he thought Sebastian was going to say it was a practical joke and turned back to the computer.

Jim started cackling maniacally just a few minutes later.

*

Mycroft escorted Mattison into his office and shut the door. Mattison was looking even more ill at ease, which was odd since he was normally such a settled and businesslike fellow.

“You…may wish to start using an Alpha scent blocker, Sir, recent events have kicked your pheromones up.”

Mycroft blinked a few times, “My apologies? No one’s mentioned it before.”

“Well, my own sense of smell is muted, but…it’s noticeable.  However I expect most of your other people are Beta, and their ability to detect–”

“You’re an Alpha?” he always seemed so… steady, Mycroft had just assumed he was a Beta.

Mattison sighed, “No, Sir, an Omega on suppressants, and I would greatly appreciate it if that didn’t get out.”

“You…” Mycroft stared at him. _Average height, build, slightly sharp features… he’d been anxious… of course_ … “I would never have guessed.” He gestured for him to sit down, he did.

“Omega’s in a nontraditional job learn to hide rather well.” He said drily, “Although I admit that it never occurred to me to try to be a criminal mastermind or anything.”

“Yes, well…” Mycroft cleared his throat, “speaking of which, I don’t suppose you can shed any light on his likely behavior or where he might go?”

“Because we’re both Omegas? I don’t think I…” he paused, “Amended, Sir… He’ll be LIKELY to do certain things, it’s just not certain.”

“Such as?”

“Familiar smells, he’ll be most comfortable with familiar smells around: under stress Omegas are more scent oriented,” he looked around again, “which may be why I noticed. Anyway, if he has any favorite foods, scents, flowers, or people, he’ll likely want them around, and given what we did to him…” Mattison shuddered.

“Are you going to be alright?”

“I never imagined an Omega in interrogation, Sir. I couldn’t take it; I don’t see how he did.”

“My brother and he were both commenting about pain and childbirth.” Mycroft sighed, “Toffee?” he held out a box.

“Thank you sir.” He took it, “That wasn’t entirely what I meant, Sir.  Most Omegas are insanely social–I’m a bit of an oddity and even I like to be around people– being in isolation and the only people you see being hostile…that would break most Omegas without laying a finger on them.”

“I… I found out a little, I had no idea.”

“Your brother’s blog, Mister Holmes? I did rather assume it related to this case, at least in part.”

“Yes, unquestionably aimed at both myself and Jim.  Sherlock was offering to assist him since I was being…”

“Uneducated.” Mattison tactfully filled in. “It’s gone quite viral. I was surprised to see an Alpha taking such a pro-Omega view.”

“My brother is a Beta,” Mycroft shook his head, “Jim had thought he was an Alpha as well, apparently.”

Mattison stared at him, “Beta? Oh… I thought he and Doctor Watson…” he flushed slightly, “Oh, just gay, right.”

“My brother’s flatmate– Doctor Watson, of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers– is also a Beta.” Mycroft said drily, “and Watson, at least, is not gay. My brother mostly seems intensely disinterested.”

Mattison looked utterly stunned.

“Right, please do let me know if you think of anything. I certainly won’t mention your Gender to anyone; it hasn’t interfered in your career so I see no reason to.”  he showed him out and  pulled up the computer. 

_What was this about my brother’s blog?_

_…_

_Oh dear God…!_

*

Sherlock and John were besieged.

John managed to keep Sherlock inside and off line for only a short time and then it was all over.  He started by posting online, then he ended up in arguments with people he kept calling “so-called experts”, and THEN he went outside and opened his mouth….

“Well how was I supposed to know that basic civil law was a contentious subject?” Sherlock snapped as he looked out the window. He had binoculars, of course he did.

“Because whenever you use the words ‘obvious’, ‘basic’ or ‘evident’ it’s something  that’s either about to cause an explosion, or only a genius understands it!” John shouted back. “Who’s out there now?”

“Someone waving a sign for Omega rights just got into a fight with someone wearing a ‘bitch go home and make me a sandwich’ shirt.” Sherlock frowned, “it’s punctuated incorrectly, too.”

“Oh, God save us all from the Alpha Rights Activists.”

“Why on earth do you need Alpha Rights Activists, they already have most of the rights.”

John stared at him, “Do you ever read anything about the news?”

“Murders, mostly.” Sherlock continued staring out the window. “I take it that’s what ARA with a Male logo on it means?”

“Yeah.”  John sighed “They’re really annoying but mostly harmless unless–”, and then panicked as he heard the door slam… “Sherlock? Sherlock!”

…

Greg let them out of the police van after the ARA boys refused to press charges– not keen on admitting they were beaten up by two Male Betas (and the one short girl with an Omega symbol on her shirt). Greg had also pointed out that video showed one of them taking the first swing, and it likely wouldn’t go well anyway…

 “Try to keep out of trouble, please?” he asked in a resigned tone as he showed them back into their flat.

Sherlock seemed terribly chipper, despite the bruise he was sporting. “It was worth it!”

“It wouldn’t be if they’d decided to press charges!”

“I disagree, but it’s certainly MORE worthwhile since they didn’t.” Sherlock showed a rare flash of consideration and handed John an ice pack too.

“I admit to having the short man’s enthusiasm on this specific point… damned elitist bastards.” John had to admit he was originally going to have just hauled Sherlock out of the fight, but then one of them sneered about John being an Omega, and he lost his temper. “As if I didn’t get enough cracks about being an Omega before…”

“Because you’re short?” Greg asked in confusion, from his height.

“Yeah, because I’m short, mostly.”

“You’re built like a bulldog, John, stocky and low to the ground for leverage, that’s all.” Sherlock said distractedly from behind an icepack. “Look how easily you got under their guard.”

It did make John feel a bit better.

*

Mycroft had no idea how much time had passed while he was staring at the complete MAYHEM his brother’s blog had apparently ignited. Eventually Mattison and Grey came in and got his attention.

“Sir?” Grey handed him a file, “the file on Sebastian Moran you requested: it raises several questions. Also I believe he was spotted just slightly earlier today, on foot, looking at the papers.”

“Where?”

She showed him the location, and several additional earlier sightings in the same vicinity.

“Excellent, thank you, call Anthea and get a quiet retrieval team ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

After she’d left, he looked at Mattison, “Alright, what is it?”

“Wouldn’t it be…kinder to shoot him, sir.”

Mycroft’s mouth dropped open and he shut it quickly, “I– Why would you think that?”

“Spending the rest of his life as a prisoner…” Mattison took a deep breath and looked at him flatly. “He’ll either find a way to kill himself or he’ll go insane, Sir.”

Mycroft just stared at him for a long time.

“He’s my Omega; you think he’d rather kill himself?” _Just how poor an Alpha, or for that matter a human being, am I?_

“Sir, Given that you are going to keep him as a prisoner and information resource, I don’t think–”

“What?”

“Keeping him locked in a cell? His Alpha not even staying with him?  Keeping him as a prisoner for an information resource? He won’t last a month–possibly not even a week; I don’t care how tough he was under interrogation.”

Mycroft looked down at the desk, “I had hoped… I had hoped he might eventually learn to like me.”

Mattison looked dubiously at him, “Then why did you lock him in a cell?”

“I thought you read my brothers blog, Mister Mattison; because I thought he was playing with my emotions, and I had no idea how damaging it was.”

“You… You two actually have a Bond, a solid Bond?”

“Yes, apparently, although he seems more able to interpret it than I am; I didn’t know what any of it meant.”

“Has…” Mattison muttered, “I don’t believe I’m having this discussion,” and then continued in a more normal voice, “Has anyone talked to you at all about relationships? About having a mate or a Bond? About what an Omega would need?”

“This is, in fact, highly unprofessional,” Mycroft sighed, “But at this point I’ll take any advice that doesn’t involve people screaming at me. No, my father was extremely unpleasant, and constantly introduced me to ‘wonderful social matches’ with all the intelligence of a houseplant. He was certain that all that was needed was good family and advantageous connections.” Mycroft shuddered, “Houseplants. Simpering houseplants.”

He pulled himself together and went on, “My mother simply suggested I wait until I was a bit settled and meet a sibling of someone I like, although at this point she’s quite determined for me to find SOME Omega and settle down.”

“Your brother seemed to have some good ideas…”

“I had no idea about that until I talked to him when I took Jim to his flat.” Mycroft looked at him and sighed, “If only… my father threw him out–disowned him in all but law– when he turned out to be a Beta. My mother wasn’t allowed to see him again until after my father died– I only managed occasionally.”

Mattison predictably looked horrified.

“I’m an Alpha, and everything he was supposed to be, but couldn’t be.” Mycroft shrugged, “I was frankly shocked he had so many good things to say about me as a potential mate to Jim, but he was certainly not pulling any punches about my shortcomings.”

Mycroft sighed, “And the more time goes by, and the more I find out, the more I’m realizing Sherlock was right: I threw away possibly the only chance of an Omega intelligent enough to keep up with me.”

Mattison pulled himself back together.  “If… If you are ACTUALLY going to treat him as your mate… are you?”

“My brother would have my hide if I didn’t, I expect.” He said drily, “Although to be honest I’m not sure what that would entail besides feeding him.” he amended hurriedly, “outside of bed, that is.”

“Oh, you know, an ability to go places without a leg shackle…”

“I don’t believe a shackle was in my plans, no.” he answered with a raised eyebrow. _Not that I think a leg shackle would hold him, anyway._

“Then I can give you some advice…since you DO have a Bond, he’ll have a very difficult time doing anything that would knowingly hurt you.  He might be able to pull a gun and fire it at you before he thought about it much, but… if you make him think about it, he’ll have a very difficult time.”

“So I was told.”

“So don’t be aggressive.  Show up with a lot of food and let him scream at you. He may even hit you but…” he shrugged, “if you aren’t threatening, he won’t be able to really go all out at you.”

“My brother suggested groveling.”

“That would be novel from an Alpha…”

“I shall certainly attempt it.” Mycroft sighed, “Anything else?”

“Let him know how he’s going to be treated, ask him what he wants? Reassure him you won’t put him back in a cell?”

Mycroft nodded, “I certainly plan to.  Now I must get going to find him, I can’t give him time to move again.”

“Yes, sir… one last thing?”

“Yes?”

“Find out what suppressant he was using and why I’ve never heard of it? I’d love to not have to take a pill every day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please do be patient with any grammatical or spelling errors, my proof reader has been ill.  
> "though she be but little, she is fierce!" had to reference that one..


	14. The arrow goes straight through my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re expected to serve in the front lines of every nation’s military. We’re objectively superior: stronger, tougher, and smarter. We are the overwhelming majority of rulers, presidents, and so on… and yet when we follow our natural instincts, to take a mate– an Omega whose only purpose is to belong to an Alpha and bear the next generation of leaders and protectors–people start suddenly arguing about ‘rights’.” From the Alpha Rights Activists manifesto on Reddit.
> 
> “Somehow the only ‘rights’ the ARA are fighting for, is the right to do away with my rights…” An anonymous comment on a news article about Alpha Rights Activists.

Mycroft got into one of the covert surveillance vans and they set it up with a tracking map.  They would start in the area that Sebastian Moran had been seen in and planned on driving a grid pattern toward other sightings. The men in the van were more used to tracing electronic signals than bond signals, but the principal should be the same.

In the meantime Mycroft read the file.

Sebastian Moran’s files didn’t just ‘raise several questions’, it raised questions and red flags– which it then waved vehemently. An Alpha from a noble family, eldest son of Lord Augustus Moran, educated with top honors at the best schools… and his entire military file was single line postings and field assignments with a questionable discharge at the end. His file practically screamed classified, and since Grey hadn’t been able to get the information; classified at a high level.

What he DID have was the man’s medical records from school and military intake, his family, and his travel and taxes under that name. It was evident he’d been using other identities for a while after his discharge since so little came up under ‘Sebastian Moran’.   Mycroft was so caught up in the puzzle that he missed the first contact through the bond.

He forced himself to suppress the shock and excitement. “Turn around and drive back, I got something.”

They did.  He got the barest whisper of something like malicious glee.  Mycroft made a note on the map. “Continue.”

They drove in grids for a bit, and eventually Mycroft suggested a circuit to build up a triangulation…

Joy, malicious glee, hate, humor, fear, anger, worry, annoyance… some feelings were inherently stronger, some softer, but as Mycroft relaxed and focused on them, he was able to read them with ease.  _How could I have been convinced we didn’t have a good bond?_

Mycroft thought back to the intensely wounded, fearful, and hurt feelings he’d felt as they had driven back to his office after talking to Sherlock: _that had been Jim.  He’d looked calm as a still lake, and put on his sunglasses and watched out the car window… and he’d been hurting and scared…_

 _Why wouldn’t he be frightened of me, hate me? I was in charge of the interrogation, the one trying to tear apart his organization, and then?_ Even if Sherlock didn’t call it rape, he’d had to acknowledge any Omega bonded to Mycroft would be in a very dependent situation. _With all the governmental power and authority behind me? Any Omega would be, but yes… much more so for a ‘found Omega’ not from nobility, and triple that for a criminal._

Mycroft’s depression and loneliness was almost overwhelming, which might be why the sudden utter delighted JOY that flashed across his mind along with an image of his brother was such a shock.

“Stop.” He forced himself into meditation and calm. “Strong image, mark it down. Continue.”

*

Jim started tracing the utter and delightful chaos that Sherlock’s blog post had set off. It was glorious! There were factions at each other’s throats, and wherever there were strong feelings, politics, and desperate people, there was profit to be made. _If that profit could also take some of the systems that made my life miserable down a few pegs? So much the better._

Some of this was easily done online–it was amazing what carefully crafted comments from a few dummy accounts could accomplish– but some of it needed boots on the ground, so to speak.

“Sebastian? Time to go hunting, tiger.”

“Sir?”

“Get out there, get our people moving; you’ll get targets and instructions on route.  Kill off the ones that tried to take advantage of my ‘brother’ while you’re at it, and blame it on someone we don’t like.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jim went back to savaging people online.  He put together targets and plans and started sending them out to his people, some through Sebastian, and some otherwise.  He was getting more and more angry watching some of these Omega-hating bastards going off.  _Leave it up to THEM and we’d be little more than chattel._

_Sebastian was a good Alpha.  It was such a pity he hadn’t bonded to him…_

Jim shook his head, _what the hell am I thinking like that for? Just because he was behaving and courteous to a bonded Omega didn’t mean he’d be willing to take a subordinate role to his OWN Omega! He was much better than the abusive bastards out there, and probably better than…_

Jim stopped that train of thought right there and got back to work.

At one point he noticed that he was getting more depressed, probably from all the Alpha rights idiocy, and anti-Omega nonsense.  Well, one sure way to deal with that was to make their lives a living hell.  He went back to work with fervor, texting instructions and whispering clues to some of his press contacts.

After a bit he decided to take a break and check on Sherlock–after all it had been his blog post that set this off, even if it was well beyond being “just him” at this point…

_Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and an Omega rights activist, had been in a fight with some Alpha Rights Activists who had been protesting at Sherlock’s flat?! And there was FILM?!_

Jim got out some food and started watching.  The official  news footage was horrible, coming from the wrong angle, but what it did show was  Sherlock coming out of the flat, stalking over, words being exchanged, and then one of the ARA fellows swung on Sherlock– Sherlock took him down neat as you please, and then it was chaos.

Jim sent out more instructions and started looking for UN-official footage… _bingo!_ Someone had loaded a beautiful cell phone view of Sherlock, John Watson, and this tiny girl wearing an Omega Rights t-shirt beating the living daylights out of a group of ARA guys.  Apparently one of them had called John an Omega or something when he came out–probably trying to retrieve Sherlock.

_I bet he gets a lot of that, with his height and the sweaters and all._

Jim had no idea who the girl was, but _DAYUM, watch out for the short girls!_

“Though I be but little, I am fierce!” Jim cackled and resolved to find out who she was and send her something nice.

That seemed to have shaken off the black mood that had been creeping up on him, at least.  He went back to work.

*

Mycroft was getting clearer and clearer images and thoughts as they slowly narrowed down the location.  It really was eerie how well the thoughts meshed with his own; no wonder he hadn’t recognized them.  Oh, Jim’s thoughts were less organized, less orderly, more like quicksilver flashes of brilliance that went darting off in all directions, but the speed and the clarity–and the vicious snarkiness– almost vanished into his own thoughts.

_Sebastian should be done with {hate, shame, humiliation}_

Mycroft had to have them stop the survey until he could recover.  He sorted through it as calmly as he could.  Jim had sent Sebastian – _lethal, loyal, smart dog, sexy walk_ _like a tiger_ – to kill someone who had… done something to Jim… Mycroft could practically taste the fury and humiliation.  Mycroft tried to swallow and sipped some water. Jim thought Sebastian would be done soon and would be sending him instructions on something else.

Mycroft’s first thought was _we must be very close_ ; his second… _Sebastian wasn’t his lover_ … something eased in Mycroft’s chest. He got the van moving and practiced cool observation.  As Jim’s thoughts became clearer he would signal to the man plotting and triangulating.   They had him narrowed down to a few buildings, and they weren’t nearly as close as he’d thought initially…

 _With this kind of bond Jim could have had access to almost anything in my department._ Mycroft stifled the panic and forced himself to be cool, calm, and observe. Luckily Jim was a maelstrom of emotion by comparison and he could easily slip back to riding along on the rapid highs and lows, the anger and the amusement.

Apparently Sherlock, John and  some…girl? Had beaten up some Alphas… Jim kept watching it over and over–no, remembering it in the same kind of clarity Mycroft was capable of.  In any case Jim was treating the image as a sort of… Soothing palate cleanser?  Jim was very anxious and upset under everything…. Ah, he was taking it out on the bigots and incidentally arranging thefts and  other crimes.

Mycroft supposed he should be upset, really, but there was this delightful GLEE at putting one over on the idiots….

 “We’re here, sir.  This building, no question.”

Mycroft kept most of his mind as blank as he could. “Good. Have the team surround the building; tranquilizers ONLY, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll go in and retrieve him. No action to be taken unless I am killed or he attempts to leave the building, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir as ordered.”

Mycroft had one of his people bypass the door security and went up the stairs.  He suddenly had a crystal clear image of some idiot being maneuvered into doing something lethally stupid, and he snickered.

 _{echo, control, surrounding the building, Mycroft!}_ Jim had noticed him. Images cut off and were replaced with a swirling maelstrom of hate, longing, fear, pain, and terror. He had a momentary image of Jim trying to run, and falling…

*

Jim was slowly coming to realize that, while ripping apart these idiots was FUN, it wasn’t getting work done.  _Sigh.  Sebastian should be done with killing at least one or two of the men who’d tried to rape me– my baby brother_ , he corrected himself. _They didn’t know it was me, they must NEVER know it was me._

“Omegas are only good for fucking and breeding, everyone knows that”. He could still hear every thrice be-damned fool. Well they were dead and now he could make more people miserable.  He set into the online forums and started encouraging some of the Alpha Rights garbage to come right out and say what they meant.  Let’s get that damned politician on record, shall we?

 _God DAMN biology!_ _Ruthlessly efficient? Only at making my life miserable. WHY couldn’t I have been born an Alpha?_ No, he didn’t really want to be an Alpha they were idiots.

He set up a theft under cover of some of the riots and chaos.

_Okay not all of them were idiots._

Jim thought about it, he knew three Alphas that weren’t idiots, as opposed to all of the rest of the ones he had ever met, or heard speak, so statistically they were all idiots.

Jim answered a question from one of the innumerable “boring but profitable” contracts, hacked into a file and pointed a reporter at it, and ordered one of his brute squad to go slash a few tires.

He should have realized Sherlock wasn’t an Alpha.  Still, his brother WAS an Alpha and he was still smart as fuck. _God DAMN but she was right, smart was the new sexy.  Mycroft_ … he whimpered and forced himself back to work.

He’d been working for a while when he allowed himself a treat: he spent a bit of time whispering in the ear mike of one of his pet reporters, giving them exact questions and wording to get  the target to convict himself on live television.  When it worked Jim grinned. God how he wished he could show Mycroft, he’d appreciate the art… he could almost hear him snicker.

He HAD heard him snicker… echo-ing his own… _they were surrounding the building, Mycroft was HERE!_   Jim closed himself off as hard as he could.  He sent scramble codes to Sebastian and started the wipe on the computer.

Even as he worked he could feel Mycroft, how had he gotten so CLOSE!

He wanted to run, submit, beg, kill him… The wipe was irrevocable, Jim got up to run and realized too late that he’d been sitting for too long, not drinking enough… his vision went black and he stumbled and fell, sprawling on the floor.

He looked up and Mycroft was there. _Alpha will help me/ I’m never going back to his cells, I’ll die first._

*

Mycroft ran into the room: Jim was sprawled on the floor. He moved forward to help him up and Jim pointed a gun at him and pulled the trigger.


	15. I'm dancing on my own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “People always talk about the bravery of the Alpha in wartime, or how the valiant Beta managed to accomplish feats of heroics usually associated with Alphas only, but somehow everyone overlooks the stories of Omegas who defended the fortress, who outsmarted the invaders, who saved their families, who were clever and cunning… I dare say not one British schoolchild in a hundred knows that Isabella of France– Queen of England, She Wolf of France – was a recorded Omega. Of course she was slandered horribly in the histories…” Excerpt from the Cambridge lecture on “Omegas In Wartime History” by Professor Houghton.

Mycroft came in and he’d fallen and he’d never get to the exit in time… _Alphaescapewantfear_

Jim pointed the gun and pulled the trigger and at the last moment jerked his hand sideways. The bullet passed Mycroft’s head by a fraction of an inch and embedded itself in the wall.  Mycroft was standing perfectly still with his eyes wide, and Jim could FEEL his Alpha’s panic battering at him.

Mycroft was still reacting to not being shot: his heart rate was too rapid; he could feel the adrenaline but had nothing he could think of to do… there was no enemy, nothing to attack… he couldn’t run… his OMEGA was there, his Omega was HURT…

 _Your Omega damn near shot your head off_ , he tried to remind himself as Jim brought the gun back in line for another shot.

“I am NOT going to go over and lick your fucking neck Mycroft! I’m not going back–” Jim was screaming and pointing the gun back at him shakily.

 _God DAMN it_. Jim tried to steady his hand but everything in the world was spinning and his Alpha was finally here...

“You’re dehydrated…” Mycroft said hesitantly, “Also, thank you for not shooting me.” He watched warily as Jim seemed to be having an argument with his gun hand.

Jim threw the gun at him and kept screaming. “Just shoot me then, because I’m not going back! I’ll rip your damn throat out with my TEETH before–”

Mycroft wanted desperately to grab him and shake him and make him LISTEN, but…he gritted his teeth and tried to listen to the advice he’d gotten–he held still and tried to look unthreatening.

“I didn’t KNOW! I thought you were just trying to trick me–”

“I can HEAR you Mycroft; you won’t get out of my GOD DAMN HEAD!” Jim’s voice was hitting harmonics that made his head spin, “You’ll just put me back in a cell. I could HEAR you planning it last time!”

 _Oh… oh of course…_ “I thought you were using me–”

The shriek hit Mycroft like a shock wave. He literally fell to his knees and tried to cover his ears. “You God damned Alpha bastard! How DARE you?! You have the entire WORLD at your feet and I’m using YOU?!” whatever else he might have been saying cut off suddenly as he doubled over.

The bond link muted as though someone had unplugged a speaker.

Mycroft shook his head and tried to push himself up on his arms– _Jim? Omega? What… what happened?_ He felt that same horror he’d felt when he finally understood that he wasn’t feeling anything, and thought about finding Jim dead in the cell…

The link strengthened – _as if someone had finally adjusted the speaker connection_ , he noted–and Jim was so very sick…

“Hi-pass cut off,” Jim muttered, “What good is a bond if you can drop them both by shooting one of them.”

Mycroft crawled over and pulled Jim into his lap. “I- I brought soup?” he caught a faint whiff of some other Alpha on his Omega and growled without thinking.

“Oh get OVER it! It’s just Sebastian,” Jim snapped, still curled up around himself even as Mycroft tried to wrap his arms around him.  _Sexy, kind, loyal, an image of him taking a nearly impossible shot…_

_I’m sure he would be a better Alpha than I would, anyone would be._

_Oh shut UP and get out of my HEAD Mycroft. You don’t WANT to be my Alpha, why do you care?_

Mycroft tried not to even let the thoughts come up, but no matter how controlled he might normally be, they still did now… Images of his Alpha father, impossible to please and so coldly cruel, and his Omega mother always making excuses… his father smelling of Beta, and other Omega, and his mother crying quietly in her room when she thought no one could hear her… the constant pervading smell of distressed Omega, except when the cleaners came and used the scent blockers.

“You’ll be a good Alpha, Mycroft.” He could picture Mummy saying it, red rimmed eyes carefully disguised, the expensive perfume that was forever associated in his mind with trying to hide distress.

He’d resolved never to bond then, when he was still young. He’d never, ever, be like his father, never hurt anyone like that, never… and the scent of distressed Omega was everywhere in the room and it was his Omega…

Mycroft fell into his Mind Palace and closed the door.

~

Jim slowly sat up as the completely overwhelming black depression– and memories of a life of wealth, privilege, and misery– finally shut down.

Jim sat there, stunned, blinking… _Well, that certainly explains you two_ … he shook his head to try to clear it.

Alpha–Mycroft– was lying sprawled across the floor, eyes open but unresponsive.  Jim put a hand on Mycroft’s cheek… he had a vague impression of Sherlock as a child, and the idea that he would care for him… Jim saw an older Mycroft trying to play pirates with a child… even there; there were overtones of disapproval of it not being “Alpha” enough, of it being a weakness, an Omega thing– to care.

 _I knew he cared about him, I had no idea how much– I wonder if Sherlock knows…?_  Jim opened the thermos he found in Mycroft’s bag: soup. He drank some and thought.

“Well, I can’t pick you UP Mycroft… and if your guards come in and find you unresponsive…” Jim sighed.

 _Well for ONCE biology can be useful_. Jim leaned over his Alpha and licked his neck.  He wasn’t prepared for the wave of contentment and safety that he felt– the world spun some more. _Pheromones, Hormones– just an autonomic response,_ Jim gritted his teeth and reminded himself.

He licked Mycroft’s neck again and crawled away, whimpering– he remembered to grab the bag.

Mycroft rolled over and made a questioning growling noise– _Omega? Hurt/protect…?_

Jim tugged on Mycroft’s hand and stood up. As much as it made him fell disgustingly weak, he whined in pure distress– he didn’t have to fake it after all.

Mycroft picked him up and growled… _yup, mind on vacation–Alpha on autopilot_.  Jim could sense Mycroft, deep in his mind, trying to figure out what was wrong and find his way out.

“Not right now, Iceman… I need out of here and I’m not going back to your cells… and no matter what you think you mean to do, I don’t TRUST you…” Jim forced an image of the hall way and corridor into his mind and held it.  He thought “safety/run/protect” as hard as he could… Mycroft obligingly moved out into the hallway…

~

Mycroft knew, at some level, that this was memories and imagination, but he didn’t care. He’d stay here and never hurt anyone…

And somehow Sherlock playing pirate in the gardens faded away and it was James–Jim– laughing at him in interrogation...

He was sitting across from Jim in interrogation, the utility table covered with cheese and sweets, Jim laughing… “That’s a far better way to get answers out me, Iceman.”

“I should have tried it earlier.” Mycroft fed him a bit of sweet cheese. “You don’t eat enough.”

“Just like your brother,” Jim nodded happily, “we’re exactly alike, you know.”

“He always wanted to be a pirate…” Mycroft smiled fondly, remembering.

“And I am one!” then Jim made a face, “well, except for the boats, but they’re not important.” He looked thoughtfully at him and Mycroft could see the resemblance to Sherlock so clearly… “Do you think I should get a boat?”

“If it makes you happy…”

Jim led him through a tunnel, lit by torches and old light bulbs. “Where are we?” Mycroft asked. _Something was very odd…_

“Pirates always have a secret passageway, Mycroft, you should know that!”  He distantly heard the rumble of a train… or a dragon.

“I had a dungeon… but I didn’t like it.” Mycroft admitted. “I always sort of wanted to put in an organ… but they don’t play the same way as a piano…”

“That would have suited the mood, wouldn’t it? Toccata and Fugue in D minor?”

They both laughed.

It devolved into a discussion of mathematics, and the physics of sound…

*

An explosion went off beneath the building Mycroft Holmes had entered. Since the backup team had already heard at least one gun shot, many of them were moving into the building and were injured when part of the building collapsed.  Many more, outside the building, were treated for inhaled concrete dust or were hit by flying debris- it was a near miracle that no one was killed.

It took twelve hours for the various emergency response teams to excavate enough of the building to determine that it had been an unexploded bomb from the war, which may have been set off by an electrical short.  There were no bodies found in the building, so it was presumed that no one was at home at that time.

Anthea had watched the rescue operation and the search with the certainty that they wouldn’t find James Moriarty’s body, and the fear that they would find Mycroft Holmes.  She permitted herself a quiet breakdown in the ladies room from relief when she was assured that neither of them appeared to have been in the building at the time.

Now to find them…

*

Sebastian Moran got the scramble code as he was setting up the shot on one of those bastards.  Technically he should drop everything and go… he took the shot without finalizing windage and allowed himself the momentary satisfaction that he managed it before he took off.

He disabled the phone and went to the pre-arranged meeting location and waited...

And waited…

He knew that he shouldn’t, but he walked into the low rent pub near the meet up. Keeping his mouth firmly shut he drank a pint and kept his eyes on the football match.  The scrolling news feed about an explosion told him all he needed to hear. 

He called a friend from back in his old life, one that he dearly hoped Jim didn’t know about…

“Hey, George, this may be a strange question…”

“When is it NOT a strange question?” George laughed. 

George thought he worked in private security–which he did, after a fashion– and was one of his few old friends he was still in contact with. The thing he would never, ever, tell anyone was that George worked in Mycroft’s building. _Probably not in his department, but in that building._

“You know I can’t talk about my work, and I know you can’t talk about yours… but… security just tripled.  Is there anything I should know about?”

George’s voice got serious, “I don’t know. Our security has been sky high for a while, but yes, when I came in this morning it was even higher, and… shit, they just announced a lock down… I have to go.”

“Be safe, George.”

“You too!”

Sebastian waited at his assigned meeting location and thought about it:  If Jim had to send the scramble codes, and blow the escape route, Mycroft probably had gotten too close.  If Mycroft had gotten that close and Jim didn’t make contact REALLY soon, he had to assume Jim was either injured, or captured.  If Mycroft had recaptured Jim he’d be in that fortress of an office building, and there was no way Sebastian could get in there.

So he had to find a way to make Mycroft come out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isabella_of_France


	16. without you everything just falls apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A total of 35 human blood group systems are now recognized by the International Society of Blood Transfusion (ISBT). Most of the time a transfusion merely needs to take into account the ABO or Rh factors, but K system and Duffy antigens can be critical when considering a transfusion, especially in newborns. For transplants the full HLA compatibility needs to be taken into account, not just the basic blood types. This is why it is so important for us to recruit more blood donors across different ethnic lines, to increase the likelihood of a good match.  
> “When you start getting into issues with hormone imbalances and pregnancy you also have to consider whether the donor is an Alpha or an Omega. Much like RH factors an Alpha can usually receive blood from an Omega, but not vice versa. Giving an Omega blood from an Alpha can set up a hormonal reaction that can throw the Omega into heat– if the Omega is bonded, giving them a strange Alpha’s blood can cause problems similar to RH incompatibility. For this reason most blood banks are set up to use Beta donors.” – Excerpt from a World Health Organization sponsored textbook on blood types, transfusions, and transplants.

Jim was cursing quietly, waiting for Mycroft to wake up.  He supposed drugging him was a bit of overkill–he’d been able to keep him from coming up out of his Mind Palace long enough to GET here, after all– but he hadn’t lived this long by taking chances. Jim curled up more tightly and tried not to throw up.

*

Sebastian saw his chance when Sherlock slipped out of the window of the flat. He’d suspected he would– what with the reporters lurking about he couldn’t go out the front– and it wasn’t in Sherlock’s usual behavior to stay at home when something interesting was going on. Sherlock slipped quietly down the alleyway and into the dark– Sebastian followed him.

Much to his surprise the Beta surprised HIM only a few blocks away, suddenly coming up behind him.  A hard pressure against his back told Sebastian to hold very still.

“Why are you following me?” Sherlock’s unmistakable baritone asked him very calmly.

Sebastian sighed and let himself sag, “I was HOPING to get a scoop.” He let his natural accent come forward.

 _Upper class– not put on, Eton, Oxford… a friend of Mycroft’s? No…_ Sherlock puzzled, this didn’t make sense.

The gun in his back faltered. “I… hope that’s Sherlock Holmes and not some random mugger…”

“You know it is.” Sherlock snorted.  The smell of garbage and other back alley scents kept him from telling anything about the man, blunted as his sense of smell was, and the dark hid too much… “Walk over to the light.”

“No, I don’t know that you are, well I suppose I do now, but …” Sebastian was thinking fast, Jim said this man was nearly his equal; he had to bring this to a stop quickly. “Should you even have a gun?” he said suddenly, in a suspicious tone, “I thought you were a PRIVATE detective…?”

 _Oh just glorious…_ Sherlock swore to himself and put the gun back in his pocket. “It wasn’t a gun,” he lied, “just a bit of pipe– I didn’t know who you were after all.”

Sebastian pretended to be unassured, “Look, can we just start over?” he held very still, as if he was still concerned. “Hi? I’m Sebastian?”

Sebastian turned to face Sherlock and held out a hand hesitantly, not too far…

Sherlock realized his mistake when he reached forward to shake hands, just too late. He was pulled and spun– _judo_ – and arms with far too much strength in them locked around him.  Sherlock kicked back desperately, but whoever this was knew exactly what he was doing in combat.

“Nothing personal, Mister Holmes,” the voice grew more cultured instead of less as they struggled. Sherlock felt both of his wrists being captured in one hand– _Alpha, with that strength, and the accent made it more likely and the combat style said Special Forces and nothing Sherlock could do_ …Sherlock stopped fighting.  He’d expected it to throw the man off, but all he did was pull Sherlock in tighter against him and chuckle.

“You really are quick.” A cloth saturated with something that wasn’t quite ether was suddenly over his nose and mouth, he tried not to breathe, to …get… loose… “Honestly, I don’t want to hurt you–Jim’d have my hide.”

_Oh…_

*

Mycroft woke up with a pounding headache. Wherever he was it was dimly lit, and sparsely furnished. He rather suddenly became aware of the fact that his Omega was nearby and very ill.

“Jim?” his voice croaked and he started coughing.

 _I don’t have the energy…I think there’s water left… I don’t know…_ Jim’s voice sounded dull… then Mycroft realized he was hearing it in his head. He sat up and tried to look around: there was a huddled bundle on the floor.  He staggered over and then stopped.

Jim was lying curled up in a blanket, shaking.  His skin was waxy and even to a cursory glance he looked less well than he had at his worst in interrogation.  There were a couple of water bottles lying near him and evidence of vomit.

Mycroft pulled him away and up into his lap– he tried to get him to drink water.  He had a sudden certainty that Jim would throw up if he tried.

“I’ll get you to a hospital.” Mycroft’s mouth went even drier with panic.   Jim tried to shake his head and weakly tried to pull away.  _Hospitals meant capture, cells, torture_.  Mycroft, for the first time in years, felt the pull of tears, “no… no, no one will hurt you.” Jim didn’t believe him.

“Watson?  Doctor Watson… he wouldn’t let–” Mycroft got a muzzy flash of something like assent.  Watson wouldn’t let a patient be tortured.

Mycroft picked Jim up, grabbed the few items lying on the floor–wallets, no phones– and went outside.  They were not far from the flat they had been in, but Mycroft really wasn’t certain how they had gotten here.

There was a young woman– _single mother; money was a problem, kids just dropped off at school between jobs_ – about to go into her flat from her car. Mycroft thought briefly about how sick Jim was, and for the first time in a very long time used the full force of his abilities–Alpha and otherwise– on a civilian…

She drove them to Baker Street in a daze. Mycroft left a pile of bills in her car and ran up the stairs carrying his Omega.

*

John got up early as he often did–old military habits never died; they just lay dormant like old explosives waiting for the wrong footstep. He had his breakfast; when Sherlock finally got up he would probably be cranky and not eat, and have to be bullied into having so much as a meal shake.

There was a sudden sound of motion and the door flew open. John was diving for a weapon when he recognized Mycroft–barely.

Mycroft looked like hell, to be specific he looked hungover or drugged, and he was carrying Moriarty who looked like he was inches from death.

“What the HELL?!”

“I have no idea what’s wrong, but he’s very ill, and unable to hold down water…” Mycroft’s voice sounded rough.

“Fluids first.” John’s trauma training said that was always a good start. He shouted for Sherlock as he grabbed the major trauma bag.

“His arms… they won’t take a line.” Mycroft sounded guilt stricken.

John didn’t bother to ask but grabbed the bandage shears and started cutting clothes away. He ran a line as if this was a battle field trauma and tossed the shears aside “Make yourself useful and cut off the rest of his clothes.  Do you know what medications he can take? I’ve been finding out just how much I was never taught about Omegas.”

“I know what our people gave him, and any noted allergies, but you probably know more than I do about Omegas.”

“What did you give him for trauma, fever, or breathing issues?” John never looked up.  Mycroft recited a list.

“Antibiotics?” John asked voice flat and steady.  Mycroft told him.

"He’s in shock, or near as– I’m pushing fluids, we need to get nutrients into him and I don’t know why his temperature is this high. We need someone who is an Omega specialist and he needs to be in a real hospital.”

“He wouldn’t go.  He trusted you.”

“God only knows why.” John muttered, “Get Sherlock out of bed, will you? He has more of this memorized.”

Mycroft didn’t want to leave his Omega but he had to admit that Sherlock would have more answers.  He didn’t bother to knock just threw open the door…

_Empty. Open window. Bed never slept in._

He turned and ran back, “Sherlock went out the window last night and isn’t back, we’ll find him later.  Is it your opinion he needs a specialist?”

“Yes.” John was doing everything he could but it wasn’t going to be enough.

Mycroft picked up a phone and called Anthea. “Anthea, I need a medical transport–“

“Oh thank GOD you’re alive!”

“Doctor Melton, and full medical.” He continued– he would appreciate how worried she had been later– “Omega Moriarty is VERY ill and unable to hold down any fluids, feverish, almost comatose. I’m at Baker Street.”

“How did you get–”

Mycroft hung up on her without a second thought.  He went back to Jim.

“Hang on, please hang on… Watson will stay with you; no one will hurt you…”

…

They were in an ambulance and on route amazingly quickly, as far as John could tell: as far as Mycroft was concerned it was too slow.

Some part of Mycroft was distantly appreciative of John’s calm steady battlefield practice– it was obvious the medics were impressed.  They at least had more supplies, although they were apparently limited in what they could use until Doctor Melton saw him.

It went by in a blur once they got to his building.  Doctor Melton asked him questions, most of which he couldn’t answer. Ultrasounds, fluids, blood tests… Mycroft was only kept from going on a murderous rampage by his complete inability to leave Jim’s side.

“The good news is we have him stable, for now.” Doctor Melton said finally, “the bad news is it’s EXACTLY what I was afraid would happen when you abandoned him, he went into heat.”

John tiredly asked, “and in his current condition that’s burning him up, right?”

Melton nodded, “Metabolic stress. Right now we need blood for a transfusion–”

“We keep O negative in stock–”

Melton shook his head, “under normal conditions we could use any blood that type matched, but not now. He needs blood that type matches, and it HAS to be from an Omega because of the hormones. We’re trying to get his system to level off. I’ve sent to the specialty blood bank but it will take–”

Mycroft nodded, “There are three Omegas in the secretarial pool, find out if they match.  I am aware of an Omega who isn’t declared in the office, you understand that that information is confidential?

“Of course.” Melton said immediately; John just snorted.

Mycroft called Mattison and prayed at least one of them had a compatible blood type.

 


	17. the fella over there with the hella good hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “While it may not be desired when an Alpha/Omega pairing produce a Beta child, pity the poor Alpha–or even worse, Omega– born into a Beta family. While it is rare, it does happen and the children often have no understanding of what is going on when their secondary gender begins to manifest. Many of the ‘juvenile delinquents’ and childhood psychiatric patients we see turn out to be Alpha or Omega children who were never educated about, or prepared for, what was happening to them.” Dr. Honecker in his article on “Adolescence and the Secondary Genders in the Prison System”

Sherlock woke up in the boot of a car.  He was restrained and thoroughly gagged, and he started to be concerned about breathing, until he realized that someone had put a small oxygen tank in with him, and run it to a simple nasal cannula. Whoever this was, they were certainly not trying to kill him… yet.

He was having trouble thinking over the headache though.

Eventually he was hauled out of the boot. “Up you go.” The fellow–he supposed he would keep thinking of him as Sebastian– carefully picked him up along with the oxygen.  He was carried though a comfortable looking flat– _no windows; this looks like a normal flat but those curtains are just for show_ –and into a bedroom that positively SCREAMED Jim Moriarty.

Sebastian put him down onto the bed, “Right. I need you out of those.”

“Mmph?”

“I presume you’re about as fussy about your clothes as Jim is, so you would PROBABLY prefer to strip rather than have me cut them off, right?”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide and he tried his best to get out of the restraints and off the bed. _No way in HELL…_

“Woah, what the hell?” Sebastian casually pulled him back and essentially sat on him. Sherlock head butted him.  Sebastian went “oof” and pinned him down more. He was lying over him, casually holding him down with unmistakably Alpha strength… _He smelled of guns and honing oil, the kind that got into your pores and your hands and didn’t come out for a long time.  The smell was comfortingly like John, but instead of the underlying scent of John– Beta, wool sweaters, and tea– underlying it was the unmistakable smell of an Alpha._

Sherlock eventually stopped fighting and went limp. _Play dead and he might lose interest_ , Sherlock told himself.  He was mentally cursing himself for not even thinking about it– _he just hadn’t pattern matched to a rapist._

Sebastian was looking down at him with an insanely puzzled expression, as though he couldn’t possibly understand what was wrong.

“Look, there’s no reason to be uncooperative.  I just want Jim back.”

“Mph!?”

“Don’t bother screaming, all you’ll do is give me a headache.” Sebastian sighed and pulled the gag.  Sherlock tried to curse at him and ended up coughing violently.  Sebastian got out a bike chain and lock and locked his hands–still cuffed behind his back– to the bed frame. “I’m getting you a drink.”

Sherlock assessed as fast as he could.  _Nothing in reach, nothing to pick a lock with…_

Sebastian came back and tried to get him to drink something from a cup–Sherlock gritted his teeth shut.

“What the hell?” Sebastian blinked at him a few times, “Oh for CHRIST’S sake… its water.” He took a swallow and held the cup out.

 _There were very few drugs that could be hidden in plain water_ … Sherlock dubiously took a sip; eventually he finished it. _It didn’t make sense;_ _Sebastian really didn’t pattern match to a rapist._

“Why isn’t Jim here if you work for him? And why did he have me kidnapped?”

Sebastian stared at him. He really looked confused… _something was very wrong_.

“Mycroft Holmes found him.  Jim sent the scramble alert and he tried to get out… and failed.  They’ve got the damned fortress of his on lock down and my boss is back in there being tortured…”

“Oh God…” Sherlock sagged back on the bed.

“You didn’t know?”

“First of all, OBVIOUSLY not or I wouldn’t have been sneaking out to try to FIND Jim…”

“Oh.” _He was trying to find him? Jim had said he was helping… and that blog post…_

“Secondly, if Mycroft did manage to get him back, and he so much as says a harsh word to him, I’ll have his hide!  But he’s probably just being a completely clueless Alpha idiot and trying to convince Jim to forgive him.”

“Yeah, well I want to shoot him, but Jim says I can’t–yet.” Sebastian was working his jaw in a very worried fashion…

 _Oh hell… did Jim have an Alpha…“_ Are… he wasn’t bonded… were you two…?”

Sebastian sighed, “No, we weren’t. I would have in a heartbeat even thinking he was a Beta– and I’m not gay– but… when I found out he was an Omega he… he said he couldn’t have.  Couldn’t have sex with a guy even if he wanted to– they’d find out.”

“True.” Sherlock sighed, “Far too risky.  Even an observant woman might guess, and blackmail is always a risk.”

“Look, Mycroft Holmes won’t come out of that building for just anything, so it’s simple… I have you, he has Jim–”

“Do you HONESTLY think that an Alpha is going to trade their Omega?”

“I wouldn’t, but yes, I think he would.  He put him in a God damned cell–”

“Because he was a God damned idiot!” Sherlock groaned. “Look, if you weren’t planning on raping me, why are you–”

“WHAT?!” Sebastian reared back in shock– _no, never crossed his mind…_

“You kidnapped me, threw me on a bed, were threatening me and trying to strip my clothes off…”

Sebastian sat down on the bed, and groaned. _Oh my God, he thought what? That’s why he was panicking like that? I’m an idiot…_

“You honestly had no idea how it would look, did you?”

“No…”  Sebastian gritted his teeth, “Fine, I’m a fucking moron. I’m sorry; I never even thought it would look like that. I just have to get him back, alright? First he was tortured, then he was bonded by that bastard and then Jim was almost assaulted–”

“Some of his men?” Sherlock asked, “Of course, after he was tranquilized.”

“Yeah. I had to shoot a couple. Jim had me finishing up shooting the rest; that’s why I wasn’t there when they kidnapped him.” Crushing guilt washed over him– he could have SHOT the bastard if he’d been there.

Sherlock assessed quickly.  He was guilt-stricken over his failure to protect Jim– an Omega in his charge, even if not HIS Omega– that would make any Alpha a bit crazed and this one seemed to have a protective streak.  But Jim was his boss…?

“Mycroft won’t hand Jim over, he wouldn’t even if he WASN’T an Omega… but they’re bonded, very well bonded. The only way Mycroft could have found Jim is by using the bond…” Sherlock was beginning to feel sorry for the man, he was clearly a bit lost without orders… it reminded him of John.

“I can’t just LEAVE him.” Sebastian said firmly. “now look, I have no intention of doing ANYTHING to you other than holding you here, but the clothes have to go– they could have tracers.”

Sherlock could see his point, but no way in hell– he pitched his voice carefully, “I don’t like Mycroft following me; trust me, they don’t have tracers.”

_Everything he said sounded so REASONABLE... it was like dealing with Jim–if Jim was maybe on tranquilizers._

Sebastian was rubbing his forehead so Sherlock changed tactics, “Look, I could phone Mycroft…”

“I already dumped your phone; THAT can be traced.”

“I memorized eight of his phone numbers.” Sherlock said calmly, “I can call Mycroft and start talking to him, if nothing else I can probably get you on the phone with Jim and he can tell you what to do.”

Sebastian looked at him dubiously. “Right… like I could out think you. Jim says you’re his level of smart and I can’t keep up with him on a good day.” He muttered, “And this is not a good day.”

“Are you SURE you’re an Alpha?” Sherlock said dubiously. “You seem entirely too polite and sensible.”

“What? Of course I’m an Alpha, what else would I be?” Sebastian wanted to be outraged but all he could really muster was a sort of pained confusion.

“Most Alphas I know would have punched me for even suggesting they weren’t.”

Sebastian was utterly appalled at the idea of hitting him, “That’s… That’s…”

“Typical?” Sherlock suggested.

“Barbaric!”

“Like I said...”

“Look, I’m going to get you fed, and locked up a bit more comfortably, and then I’m going to give you a tranquilizer–” he kept talking over Sherlock’s protests, “but you can keep your clothes. Okay?”

Sherlock stopped and thought. “Why bother tranquilizing me?”

“Because Jim is the sneakiest, smartest, most dangerous son of a bitch I know, and he thinks you’re in his class.” Sebastian shrugged, “I have to go out, and you’d get loose otherwise.”  _It was obvious._

“Even now that you know he’s an Omega, he’s still…?” Sherlock just couldn’t figure this out.

“It is weird, I know,” Sebastian looked dubiously at him. “If you start giving me a hard time…”

“No, it’s just… unusual.” _And something to be desperately encouraged. How the HELL had Jim found this gem?_

Sebastian went away and came back a few minutes later with a cup of soup and a sandwich.  Sherlock momentarily hoped he would untie his hands, but he wasn’t that careless.  Instead he sat down on the bed, sat Sherlock up and started hand feeding him.

_Now this was a very big problem._

After an eternity of exceedingly pleasant torture– trying not to lean back on a very comfortable broad chest and being fed a sandwich and sips of soup– Sebastian got out an injector.

“Is that even safe?” Sherlock eyed it warily.

“Yes. Jim…” Sebastian looked uncomfortable but finally said, “Jim had a contingency for kidnapping you.”

Sherlock just closed his eyes, “Of course he did.”

“This stuff should make you a bit sleepy, uncoordinated, and ‘drunk’, according to Jim.  I think it was in case we had to transport you.  It’s only enough to last for a couple hours.”

“I’d really rather not.” Sherlock sighed as Sebastian gave him the shot anyway.

Sherlock sighed again and started counting in his head as Sebastian cleaned everything up and put things away.

The drug hit him like a freight train full of booze just a few minutes later.  Sherlock giggled, _it was just so funny, the way the room spun around whenever he lifted his head…_

“Oh man, now you really sound like Jim– okay, maybe Jim if he ever got drunk.” Sebastian said, a bit startled.

He leaned over and checked Sherlock’s pupils–completely and utterly blown. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow…” Sherlock smiled happily up at him, “You’re awfully nice for an Alpha.  When were you at Oxford, anyway?”

Sebastian told him, “and now I have to go out, I’ll be right back.”

“Oh…” _That was sad, he should stay_. “No… you should stay.  Also your chest is comfortable.”

“What?” _Holy SHIT he was drunk._

“What did I say?” Sherlock looked a bit puzzled and then appalled “Please go away until I sober up.”

“Yeah, I think I better.” Sebastian beat a hasty retreat.

_That was a pity, Sebastian was warm, and his chest was comfortable… also he smelled nice… but the bed was really soft…_

*

Thankfully Mattison was a blood type match and one of the registered Omegas in the office pool was an acceptable donor type as well.

Mattison mostly stared at Jim, feverish and incoherent in a hospital bed, as John handled the blood donation.

“Is he going to make it?”

“I hope so.” Doctor Melton said quietly, “I’ve sent for some of the specialty drugs, but the blood transfusions should help stabilize his hormones a bit as well as dealing with the general anemia.”

Mycroft didn’t even reply, he was just sitting next to the bed clutching Jim’s hand sort of hopelessly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting early for Mickie and my own benefit, its been a lousy week


	18. Shake It Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “While all the fantasy depictions of an Omega in heat–or an Omega in general– tend to depict them as sex crazed and passive; that’s not universally true. It wasn’t that long ago that an Omega was married off to an Alpha as soon as it became known what they were, in order to avoid the inevitable Alpha brawls for the unbound Omega. Biologically speaking, the unbonded Omega is sending out pheromones which encourage all the available Alphas to battle for dominance, thus ensuring that only the fittest Alpha was selected as a mate. Some Omegas take this even further, becoming hostile and aggressive in heat to ensure that their mate must be capable of defending them and their offspring.”– From the PhD thesis of Dr. Amelia Lordes.

Sebastian went out and touched base with some of the men–

Yes, Moriarty was busy, what did you expect? Some government bastard bonded his Omega baby brother and he was plotting revenge... Did YOU want to interrupt? No? Didn’t think so.

–and stopped by a grocery store to pick up perishables. If he was going to keep a prisoner, even if only for a short while, it was probably bad form to not at least feed him properly.  He was reaching for his usual brand of digestives when it occurred to him that Sherlock would probably like something a bit sweeter. It was as he was checking out with a cart full of food that he realized it was PROBABLY his Alpha instincts.  He was worried about Jim– and Sherlock seemed really nice; like a saner, quieter, version of Jim, actually–so he was obsessing about providing food. This was more food than two people could eat in a week, really.

_Like I did with Jim– God he was too thin, and injured, and I am gonna fucking KILL Mycroft Holmes no matter what Jim says._

Sherlock was immensely glad when he heard the door. He supposed he should be worried, but he was certain it was Sebastian, and he was alright. Sherlock was sweating profusely, and dearly regretting not letting Sebastian strip him out of at least some of these clothes.

“I brought food…” Sebastian called from the kitchen as he put everything away. _I hope he likes apples; I just automatically bought apples for Jim._

“Good, I’m starved, but it’s really HOT in here…” Sherlock’s voice sounded a bit shaky.

Sebastian was noting that it smelled a bit odd… _sweet? Earthy?_ As he opened the door. “Are you alright? Woah!”

Sherlock was soaked in sweat, with his curls plastered against his cheek. He was flushed and breathing heavily too.

“No, I feel insanely hot.”

Sebastian brought over an electrolyte drink and no matter how unwise it may have been, unlocked Sherlock’s hands.  He had to help him sit up and drink. 

Sebastian pressed a hand to his forehead “You’re really warm…” he sounded concerned. Sherlock thought his hand felt wonderfully cool and pressed into it… _Oh no… no, no, no..._ He forced himself to think.

Sherlock pulled back and narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. “Did you plan this?”

Sebastian was finding it difficult to concentrate for some reason. “I think I need to check the carbon monoxide sensors or something, I feel really off–”

“You said what you gave me was a tranquilizer?” _No, he hadn’t planned anything, he didn’t have a clue._

“Yeah, Jim has a whole room set up in case. I put you in his because it’s more comfortable.”

Sherlock pitched his voice carefully, softer, more persuasive, “Unlock me?”

Sebastian unlocked him. “Wait, that’s… that–” _Why the hell did I do that?_

“Show me the room, now.” He said in his normal more commanding voice.

Sebastian slunk out of the room. _Some Alpha I am, getting shoved around by Betas and Omegas, maybe my father was right._ He took him to the smaller room– the one set up quite a while ago “just in case”.

Sherlock looked around carefully. Sizable bed, solid steel and bolted to the floor but not uncomfortable. Locking cabinets well out of reach, a dresser– everything covered with sheeting but one cabinet had been uncovered… Sherlock drily noted that the décor resembled Baker Street, just a little.

“This is set up to hold an Alpha.” Sherlock confirmed his suspicions.

“Well… yeah.” Sebastian scratched his head, “Jim thought you were.”

“Which means the tranquilizer was meant for an Alpha, as well.” Sherlock snarled and rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the crawling feeling under his skin. 

 _I am going to die…_ Sebastian took a step backwards and stared wide eyed at Sherlock. “You look and sound JUST like Jim when you do that…”

“Oh, we’re EXACTLY alike…” Sherlock hissed, stalking over to the cabinet and pulling out the second injector. “I even know what he must have used– it works very nicely on Alphas, quite harmless and no relation to the opioid family to cause me any addiction problems.”

_Yes, there it was: prepackaged tranquilizer with a hormone derivative…_

Sherlock bared his teeth and narrowed his eyes: Sebastian had that same dizzying feeling of threat and attraction that Jim always gave him.

“The only problem is that I am not an Alpha.”

*

“I still can’t reach Sherlock.” John said rubbing at his eyes– _I’m out of practice on trauma schedules, I used to be able to sleep standing up between lab results_ –. “How is Jim doing?”

“Better,” nodded Doctor Melton.  “I’m glad you were here; I’m really not a trauma specialist and it was helpful.”

“Battlefield medic.” John shrugged. “Should Mycroft be, uh…” Mycroft was still holding on to Jim’s hand.  He appeared to have passed out in the chair with his head forward on to the medical bed next to Jim.

“Actually, yes. The heat was brought on by trying to get his Alpha back, so they have to stay in contact.”

John thought… something Sherlock had said, and some of the books he’d had were putting themselves together in his mind … “One of the books Sherlock had me start reading said that bonded Omegas have a specific reaction to their Alpha…”

“Yes?” Doctor Melton nodded, “The bond is critical at this point.”

“It was saying something about biological markers, and hormones.”

“Yes.  A bonded Omega in heat should really mate with their Alpha, the chemicals involved are very specific, but obviously he can’t in this case.”

“Obviously not, but what about saliva? Blood products? Sweat?” John was trying to think around the problem. “Semen is a blood product, and a lot of bonding seems to involve licking or biting.” John sighed faintly, “and Moriarty always seemed to have a sort of oral fixation.”

John hadn’t realized Mycroft had woken up until he spoke, “That seems logical.  Could we use body fluids other than semen to mimic the chemical effects of mating?”

Doctor Melton looked thoughtful and glanced at John, “well… it couldn’t hurt… and we’ve already done everything else we can.”

Mycroft very carefully took Jim’s face in his hands and licked over his lips. _Alpha_ , he felt a sensation of comfort.  Mycroft tried to project reassurance but given how anxious he was he was fairly certain it didn’t work.

Doctor Melton nodded, “Omega’s lick their Alpha’s necks as a bonding, submission, and reassurance gesture, try rubbing your neck across his nose and mouth–carefully. This is rather novel territory but we can also try drawing a small quantity of your blood…”

“Do it.” Mycroft held an arm out and kept focused on Jim. _I won’t blame you for leaving me– I’ll try to let you go if you do– but if you die on me I swear I’ll follow you to hell._

*

Sebastian felt like the entire world spun crazily and settled with a click ninety degrees to the left.

“Aw, no… no WAY…” _TWO of them?_

Sherlock just growled at him.

“The tranquilizer?”

“The hormone derivative in the tranquilizer compound.” Sherlock rolled his shoulders again and tried not to focus on how unpleasant his clothes felt.

 _Think... think…_ “You can’t go out like this even if I let you go…”

“No, I CAN’T.” Sherlock snapped.

Sebastian froze in thought and then started pulling off the furniture covers and digging through the cabinets.

“What are you…?” Sherlock stared as Sebastian tossed a set of comfortable but very sturdy looking restraints on the bed–clearly meant to hold an Alpha. “If you think for one moment that I’m going to–”

“No I don’t.” Sebastian cut him off “NOW I get why you were so convinced I was trying something.  Look, how sane do you stay during a heat, do you know?”

Before Sherlock could answer Sebastian moved out of the room with a long, rolling–and very sexy–stride.  Sherlock felt dizzy and leaned on a wall. _Jim must have insane willpower, either that or he kept FAR away from Sebastian most of the time._

Sebastian came back in with a box of military rations and an armload of electrolyte drinks and went back out. Whatever he was up to he seemed very determined.

“I stay fairly sober normally.” Sherlock told him when he came back in with an armload of water bottles, “why?”

“How did no one NOTICE?”

“I get mild heats; I just stay home and snap at everyone–and avoid my brother and any other Alphas– no one notices anything.”

“Will that tranquilizer affect how you… um…”

“Probably. Its hitting me harder than it ever has, but I mostly feel extremely irritated, far too warm, and like I want to rip your clothes off–” Sherlock winced and closed his eyes, “try to ignore that last part.”

“I can’t. I already can’t.  When you get fully into heat, from what I understand, it’s going to throw ME into a rut.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never been near an unbonded Omega in heat. The closest I ever came was when they drugged me as part of the Special Forces training, and… I don’t remember a lot of it.”

Sherlock had heard they did that, just so they would know how the soldiers reacted– and it confirmed exactly how dangerous Sebastian was. _Wait_ … “Have you been near a BONDED Omega in heat?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

A cold chill ran down Sherlock’s back, “What happened.”

“I killed the other three Alphas that were raping her…” Sebastian’s voice was very rough, “I don’t know if I did anything to the poor Omega, but she was already in pretty bad shape. She was dead by the time I came to.”

“That… could be worse.” He had imagined much worse, in fact.

Sebastian shook his head and peeled off his clothes.  Sherlock WHINED before he could stop himself, and grabbed the door jamb. Sebastian was solid muscle and some interesting scars that obviously needed closer examination… much closer…

Sebastian grinned over at Sherlock, _God he was attractive, and he smelled so nice..._ Sebastian slapped himself, literally.

He grabbed the restraints and clicked one onto his own wrist, locking the other end to the bed. He tossed the key to a shocked looking Sherlock. “I suggest you figure out a good way to lock me down for the duration.  There are scent blockers and body wash but I don’t think they’ll cut it with this.  You should have enough food out there; I’ll have enough in here, assuming I remember to eat…”


	19. can't stop, won't stop moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The arts have often been an accepted refuge for Omegas. Many of the painters, dancers, and musicians that are known ‘names’ in their field are acknowledged Omegas, and many more simply do not declare their Secondary Gender. Of course if the public understood how physically capable a ballerina is the reputation of ‘weak Omegas’ wouldn’t survive very long”. –Theodore Rampling, London Times columnist for the arts.

Between running fluids and nutrients into him, blood transfusions, and the rather peculiar exchanges of body fluids; Jim seemed to be stabilizing. John caught some sleep, and tried to text Sherlock occasionally– he never replied–while catching up on as much information on Omega biology as he could.

Mycroft stayed right there next to Jim.  Every now and then Anthea or one of the other people brought in some problem that needed his direct attention, and he would handle it in a business-like fashion before his attention went completely back to Jim.

They all viewed it as a distinct improvement the first time Jim actually licked at him when Mycroft rubbed his neck past Jim’s mouth.

“If this works I’m writing it up in a paper.” Muttered Doctor Melton.

~

Jim was back in hell.  He’d had a customer beat him up and throw him out, and he was hurting, and hungry, and he didn’t have enough money to pay anyone off.  He curled up in a corner behind the bakery and tried not to whimper at the smell of food.

_Someday I’ll be rich enough to buy anything I want. Someday I’ll be powerful enough that no one can touch me. Someday they’ll all die like Carl._

He distantly smelled something comforting, and licked his lips… _Alpha?_

*

Sherlock was taking another shower.  This was definitely worse than his usual heat, but that couldn’t be a surprise given the drugs.  The tranquilizer was long out of his system; it was the hormone derivative was the problem. YES, it would make an Alpha pliant and happy– or trigger a heat in an Omega. Of course Jim had thought he was an Alpha, of course he had.  Sherlock thought about how many times he’d almost been caught out… a few times only his height and his uncharacteristically snappish behavior had kept it from going further than “Omega” being used as a slur at him.

Sebastian was really quite pleasant for an Alpha.  He wasn’t as appallingly bigoted as most of them– which was odd given that he was clearly from one of the pureblood noble families.  Sherlock growled again thinking of his father.

_If he’d had the slightest HINT that I was an Omega I would have been pulled from school and married off as a prize to some idiot._

Sherlock pulled a robe around himself and stalked into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator hoping to find some food– it was full of ingredients.

“The hell do I do with this?” Sherlock stared at a refrigerator full of nothing to eat. “John?!”  Sherlock stopped himself, John was at home on Baker Street; this was Sebastian– ALPHA Sebastian–who stocked this. _Wonderful, he assumes I can COOK._

*

Sebastian was flipping through a book, trying to read, and generally feeling edgy and slightly foggy.  He’d eaten a meal bar and it helped but… _sigh_.  This was going to be a long few days.  How long does a heat last anyway? He vaguely recalled it was less than a week, but he wasn’t sure by how much.

BAM! The door slammed open. Sherlock was standing there in a bathrobe looking annoyed.

“This won’t work.”

Sebastian had already tried to scramble to his feet and was scrabbling for a nonexistent weapon because of the door, so he was bent over the bed, tangled in handcuffs, staring at… The furthest thing in the world from a simpering Omega anything.

“What?”

“You took all the food and left… that.” He waved back at the kitchen and his robe drifted open, showing an expanse of slim white flesh which was really far more distracting than it should be…

“Uh… You… don’t like chicken?”

“I don’t COOK,” he snapped. “Mycroft cooks, I don’t. John cooks.”

“Isn’t Mycroft an Alpha…?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and started growling again.

 _FUCK this was just like Jim…“_ Right! Like me! I cook!”

Sherlock stalked over– ignoring the fact that his robe had come completely open– and unlocked Sebastian’s wrist.

Sebastian stared at him, “Was that really a good idea–”

Sherlock grabbed his wrist, pulled him off the bed and shoved him at the door. “YOU bought that; YOU cook it.”

Sherlock threw himself on the bed and started snuffling into the sheets and pillows in a very distracting fashion.  Sebastian forced himself to go out of the room. “Shower. Cold shower. VERY cold shower.”

As he was attempting to freeze his balls into submission he wondered if Jim got more snappish and homicidal in heat, too.

_Now THERE was a horrifying thought._

*

“I’m getting glimpses of his thoughts again,” Mycroft said very tiredly, “rather than just emotion.”

“Such as?”

“People he dealt with, places he’s been… it’s all a bit jumbled.”

Mycroft’s head fell back down onto the bed and he stared at the small hand intertwined with his.

~

Mycroft was in… his cells? Gievens and Sorgenson were taking turns hitting him with rods. He was so tired…the pain was all that kept him awake, now, but it never let up. He could end this anytime by just giving the Iceman what he wanted, but then he would have suffered all this for nothing…

~

Mycroft gasped and tried to pull back from the link.  Jim whimpered.

“What happened?” John came over–Doctor Melton was taking a break.

“He… he was remembering being in interrogation.” Mycroft managed to get out.

John frowned, “The link is important… can you… try to direct him into something more pleasant? That’s what they always said about my PTSD.”

Mycroft nodded and tried to pull up pleasant thoughts or memories, only to find that he had far too few of them, and at the moment they were slithering out of his mind like eels… _Eels, water, pools…_

~

For some reason Jim found himself at the pool again.  Sherlock was there, and John… John couldn’t be an Omega, could he?  He was short and very fiercely protective of Sherlock… _could John be hiding it like I was?_

Somehow this time Mycroft was there too so Jim turned and asked him, “Do you think John could be an Omega?”

“No…” Mycroft was looking around in a perplexed fashion, “Oh, the pool, of course.   No, he’s a Beta– they both are.”

“Oh, I thought Sherlock was an Alpha… that’s right, he’s not… and John is a Beta…they aren’t lovers though. I remember…”

The pool shimmered and it was empty, just cool water and echoes. Jim looked up at Mycroft thoughtfully, “It’s a pity you aren’t real.”

“I’m real, but this isn’t.”

Jim shook his head sadly, “No… Alphas are just beastly. I’ll never be able to find an Alpha that I can tolerate, and who wants me when I’m not in heat. I’m too smart, and too mean.”

“I’ve been reliably informed that we are perfect for each other.”

“We would be, if you were real.” Jim sighed and moved into Mycroft’s arms, “It’s nice to pretend for a while. I suppose in reality I’m being tortured again.”

“No one is EVER going to hurt you again,” Mycroft pulled him in close and tried to reassure him.

“It’s a nice dream, but that’s all it ever is,” Jim sighed, “may as well enjoy it while it lasts I suppose.” Jim looked up and licked Mycroft’s neck.

Mycroft leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips.

~

“…s a nice dream…” Jim murmured as Mycroft kissed him gently.

“I want him moved.” Mycroft said firmly. “This is too much like the cells. He’s stable; we can move him back up to the secure suite.”

*

Sebastian put a plate of food down and hesitantly called out. “Sherlock? Do you want me to bring food IN?” _He had to be hungry…_

Sherlock came stalking out, having given up any pretense of fastening that robe. His blue eyes looked positively feral and his mouth kept curling up in a snarl.

Sebastian found that he was having very little problem overruling his body’s response to the scent– Sherlock was clearly going to KILL him if he laid a finger on him. Sebastian backed away slightly only to find himself being stared at unblinkingly.

“Uh… Sherlock? Eat?”

“It’s difficult!” snapped Sherlock, “I keep  flipping between wanting you to shut up and stop THINKING so loudly, and wanting to  have you hand feed me like you did before.” The glower intensified, “That was really a problem.”

Sebastian thought about all the honeymoon suite brochures showing a loving Alpha hand feeding his Omega, who looked up at him adoringly.  “Oh... uh… yeah, that– that was…”

“Excruciatingly pleasant!” snapped Sherlock.

“Wait, what?”

“You SMELL nice.” Sherlock said accusatorily, “and you’re not a complete ass! How did JIM find you?”

“Err… You REALLY aren’t like any of the other Omegas I’ve met… except maybe Jim.” Sebastian felt somehow cornered.

“You weren’t with him, though.” Sherlock frowned, “That was idiotic; he should have bonded to you.”

Sebastian wanted to preen, fuck him, and run–all at once. “He… uh… said if he had been going to have an Alpha at all I would have been on his short list.”

Sherlock chewed thoughtfully on the relatively simple prepared dinner. “You should have Mycroft teach you to cook.”

“Uh… I’m going to shoot him and rescue Jim, I don’t think–”

“You are not.” Sherlock snapped, “Either they’ll settle things and be having a formal wedding as soon as Mummy can arrange it, or Jim will kill him.  Either way he’d be annoyed at you.”

“I REALLY think one of us needs to go take another shower…”

"Really?” Sherlock snarled at him, “Because what I want to do is get into a shower with you and have you–” he shut his mouth with an audible snap. “God DAMN biology, I hate being in heat!”

 _I’m not going to make it two days like this._ “Okay… I changed my mind… I let you call your brother and I send you home even without Jim…”

Sherlock stared at him with ice blue eyes, “You go anywhere near a phone and I will rip your throat out with my teeth.”

“Uh… Don’t you want to go home?”

“Oh, of course; just because you aren’t STUPID doesn’t mean you’re smart.” Sherlock snorted, “I CAN’T go anywhere near Mycroft until this is over with. I told you I avoid Alphas when I’m in heat, my suppressants only block the smell when I’m not, and reduce it during heats- that’s why I’ve managed to be unnoticed for so long.”

“He’s your brother! He wouldn’t–”

“He doesn’t KNOW! No one does!” Sherlock snarled, “There are four people on earth that know I’m an Omega, and my family is not among that number! Do you honestly think he could have kept it a secret from JIM if he’d known?” He finished the plate of food, “I’m going to start searching this flat for anything useful.” He said as he stalked off.

Somehow being trapped in an apartment with an Omega in heat had never been something Sebastian viewed as a problem before…

 


	20. And I Want You...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It is possible to do a medical exam that will determine what Secondary Gender a child MIGHT express, but few reliable tests before the first flush of puberty can prove with certainty whether the child is a Beta with vestigial Alpha/Omega organs, or will with certainty develop into that Secondary Gender. The only individuals where the Secondary Gender is obvious at birth are the more evident Alpha Females. While most Alpha Females either lack the “Male” testes or have them internally– the higher temperature of undescended testes explaining their near zero fertility as an Alpha–some do in fact have a fully external “Male” gender expression. Of course telling the difference between this, and the more common Primary Gender Intersex child, is very often not done properly.  
> In any event both the Primary Gender Intersex child, and the Alpha Female that expresses some traits at birth, are often subjected to needless and damaging “corrective surgery”. – Nelson Textbook of Pediatrics. 20th ed.

They moved Jim back into the secured suite that they had been in a lifetime–or a couple of days– ago. Mycroft promptly crawled into bed next to him and passed out.

Anthea removed his shoes and emptied his pockets.

“You have to do that a lot?” John asked her curiously, “it looks practiced.”

“Not very often.” They both moved out to the sitting area. “There’s a small kitchenette, would you like anything?”

“God yes.” John ran a hand through his hair, “and then I want to sleep for a week but Sherlock will probably call back as soon as my head hits the pillow.”

“Let me get a nap at least and then I can get the CCTV cameras on search. He usually forgets to duck them after a while,” Anthea smiled tiredly at him.

*

“Nothing!” Sherlock snapped suddenly as Sebastian was trying to get some things organized.  He jumped and smacked his head on a cabinet.

“Ow… uh, what?” and then the scent hit his nose and he staggered. “Oh Jesus, you smell wonderful.”

“Peak scent.” Sherlock grumbled, “Omega biology is ruthless. I’m in heat, and there’s a compatible Alpha so my biology is trying to prove my fitness to be your mate.”

Sebastian dug his fingers into the countertop, “it’s working.”

“Do you have any OBJECTIONS to me?” Sherlock frowned at him.

“I... what?”

“While Jim will have condoms for an Alpha in that room, I’m sure,” Sherlock’s frown deepened, “It might not be necessary; the odds of a pregnancy in an induced heat after suppressant use are quite low…”

“I really think that would be a bad idea… err… wouldn’t it?”  Sebastian was certain it would be, but damned if he knew why right now... _Oh, right_. “Wouldn’t we end up bonded? I mean I know it’s not guaranteed unless…” _Bonded to an Omega that was smart, and dangerous, and not at all simpering…_ “I… have to be honest; I don’t think I could NOT bond you…” He came away with a piece of countertop in his hands.

“Your scent is all over, and I suspect that both of us are beginning to bond in any case, which would explain a few things.”

“We… are?”

“Why did you buy this brand?” Sherlock picked up a box and waved it. “Is this the brand you normally buy?”

“No… I have no idea why–”

“It’s my favorite.” Sherlock snapped. “Also, you came back and I knew it was you and felt SAFE.” He glared at Sebastian, “and before that you FED me!”

“Isn’t that a good reason to have me leave?” _No, that was a very bad idea, that would mean… leaving!_

Sherlock stood there with his hands clenched on his robe. “We’re both reasonably mature adults. You’re one of the few Alphas I’ve met that I can stand–and Jim put up with you close by for a while so that’s a reference– and you didn’t take advantage of either of us. You’re not entirely stupid, unlike most Alphas…”

“I… Look, Sherlock, I haven’t… I don’t LIKE most Omegas because they’re…”

“Quiet and boring and only care about clothes, take care of kids and faint at the sight of blood.” Sherlock finished for him–and damned if that didn’t sound like his own opinion.

“That and my father…”

“If MY father had ever found out I was an Omega I would have been married off for advantage in a heartbeat. He threw me out for being a Beta.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “yours?”

“Always said I was too soft, called me a Beta–called me an Omega when he got really pissed– kept remarrying a string of–”

“At least yours married them, mine just cheated on Mummy.” Sherlock growled.

“He wanted me to mate with a social ‘prize’ before I got killed in the military or something.” Sebastian admitted, “Then after I got discharged, well... he isn’t speaking to me.”

“I’m no social prize, I’m not quiet, I’m not even remotely inclined to stay at home and tend children, I don’t faint at the sight of blood and I’ve been known to take on Alphas in a fist fight.” Sherlock was ticking off points on his fingers. “You, meanwhile, are able to take orders from someone you KNOW isn’t an Alpha, are combat trained, capable, and not stupid but willing to admit that you aren’t the smartest man in the room. Also you can cook.”

Sherlock looked in the direction of the “Alpha” room. “Your scent was all over the bed, and it’s quite pleasant. The only logical way to manage this is to go have sex and deal with breaking the bond–if we want to– later.”

“Are you even in a condition to make that decision?” Sebastian was already following his gaze to the room.

“Probably not– neither are you– but I must admit it would provide me with a measure of legal protection, and after the blog post discovery seems much more likely.”

Sherlock stalked off toward the room- Sebastian followed him.

“This is a VERY bad idea.” Sebastian was trying very hard to remember why. “Why is it a bad idea? I can’t remember… GOD you’re gorgeous!”

“That’s the pheromones talking; I’m too tall and too thin.” Sherlock glared at him.

Sebastian pulled Sherlock up against him and inhaled, “Nope just the right height.”

Sherlock was gritting his teeth and holding very still. “I’m exceedingly unpleasant in heat, but I consider it unlikely that I will damage you– I get violent. As to the Bond; you can break it once you sober up.”

Sebastian let go of some of his civility, “I wanted Jim before I knew he was an Omega because he’s wicked smart, and dangerous, and not scared of a little violence…”

“You don’t seem very inclined to violence,” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him and inhaled the scent of Alpha– he whined in the back of his throat. “And if you don’t fuck me right now I will be.”

*

Mycroft drifted in and out of sleep. The bond  was creating images of Jim’s memories and thoughts that flickered in and out of focus: Mycroft’s memories, by contrast, seemed unmitigatedly dull. _I’d never realized how much of a rut I was in_. Jim giggled along the bond at the pun.

~

 _Alphas Ruts, danger_ … Alphas were dangerous under the best of conditions.  Jim had to employ them, of course– they were useful– but he didn’t start to let any close until he’d developed his improved suppressants.

{Why?}

Why? What a peculiar question… normal suppressants only reduced your heat to a few days, and damped the smell; someone could still smell you during heat.  He’d had to take days off every three months and work strictly by computer until he developed his version.

{oh.}

He couldn’t afford to be caught again. His accursed memory brought up images of his first Alpha: a crime boss who managed drugs and prostitutes in London.  Jim had been dragged in for not paying his protection money–he could still feel the boys hitting him: amateurs, nothing like Mycroft’s boys–and the smell of Alpha pervading the room as the Boss watched…

“Stop.” Finley got up and stalked over, hauling Jim up from the floor one handed.

Jim whimpered. Some crazy part of his mind was hoping the boss was going to help him–God only knew why, he would be lucky to get out of this alive.

Finley hauled him up and sniffed at him. “Why the FUCK are you out on the street?”

Jim looked up at him confused, one eye swollen shut.

“ANSWER ME!” he bellowed and the enforcers cowered.

Jim had thought he couldn’t be any more humiliated, but instead of fighting, cursing, or anything he imagined himself doing– or had done before– he just peed himself and shook. “I’m sorry; I’m sorry, don’t hurt me…” tumbled out of his mouth for the first time since he was a very small child.

Finley stared down at him. “What’s he doing on the street? Where’d we get him?” he snapped at one of the enforcers who’d been hitting him.

“Turned up last year like any other runaway.  Once he was working the street our boys brought him in and made the rules clear. Why, sir?”

“Why?...” Finley started laughing. “Strip him, clean him up, and put him in my car. Anyone damages him anymore and I’ll use them for target practice.”

Finley put him down, far more gently than he expected and stood over him.  He couldn’t think, he couldn’t make sense of anything, he just hurt and he was so hot…

{My God! Didn’t you know?}

Jim wondered why all these stupid questions were popping into his head.  _How could I have known? I was barely fourteen, and going into heat for the first time…_

Something comforting was wrapped further around him and he went back to sleep.

~

“Fourteen…” Mycroft swallowed hard, at fourteen he’d been a shy intellectual with a weight problem. “Anthea?” He quietly called out, not wanting to disturb Jim.

“She’s dealing with something,” John Watson’s steady voice had become something of a comfort.  Mycroft could tell it was reassuring to Jim as well. “Can I help? Do you need anything?”

Mycroft spoke quietly, “I have some information for Anthea to start building a genuine case file on Jim, as opposed to what little we had before.  Can you get the information to her?”

John got out a pen and paper– Mycroft smiled a bit, Anthea always thought him terribly old school for his own fondness for it– “Okay, I didn’t know you were missing any information… go on.”

“We had very little information and most of what we had I now believe to have been manufactured.” Mycroft sighed, “Jim was living on the streets by the age of 14 when he went into his first heat. He ran into an Alpha criminal named Albert Finley– obviously he’s dead now and has been for some time– he had no idea he was an Omega until then.”

John swore vehemently, if quietly. Jim whimpered and curled more tightly into Mycroft’s arms.

*

“You… definitely don’t seem like a usual…”

Sherlock snorted, “A lot of Omega’s get cranky and irritable when they go into heat; it just makes for terrible porn.”

“Yeah, the bent over presenting and pleading to be fucked is a lot more typical,” Sebastian admitted. “It’s hot enough to watch every now and then but the Omega stereotype–” he cut off as a wave of scent went straight to his crotch and he started growling… he pulled Sherlock onto the bed.

Sherlock just slipped out of his grasp and smirked at him. “You want me?” Sherlock was thinking about races over rooftops, adrenaline and danger… “Prove you can CATCH me, Alpha.”

He took off. Sebastian took off after him.


	21. It's like I got this music in my body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The hormone fluctuations between bonded pairs eventually synchronize, with the Alpha becoming more aggressive or less so in direct response to the hormones being released by their Omega. While ANY Alpha can smell and respond to ‘this is an Omega’, or ‘Omega in heat’; the bonded pair function with far more nuance, which in turn leads to a healthier and better bond. Blood tests show that the Alpha and Omega in a well bonded pair cycle in perfect harmony, and in fact this type of blood test may eventually be able to be used as a diagnostic for bonding issues and possible infertility.” – Dr. Richard Melton, Hormone Fluctuations in Bonded Alpha/Omega Pairs

Sherlock’s mind never stopped working, exactly, but it focused in an entirely new way. If Alpha wanted to fuck him–and oh he wanted him to– he was going to have to prove he was worth it. Some part of his mind kept him from throwing the glassware – _sharp, bare feet, bad_ – but anything else was fair game.

Sebastian realized– somewhere in the part of his mind that was thinking anything but “catch my Omega”– that strength and speed alone wouldn’t do it.  He didn’t want to HURT the Omega, but Omega wasn’t at all shy about hurting him–that kick to the ribs proved that. He started herding him into one of the soft rooms.

 _Good! Alpha was smart, Alpha was trying to corner him–_ Sherlock didn’t use the knife, but he hit him hard with a soft thing.

 _Oof! Think… think…_ Sebastian managed to remember how to work a light switch and turned off the lights.

Sherlock knew where Alpha was– _between me and the door_ – he made noises to lure the Alpha away… and then the lights flashed back on and he was dazzled.

Sebastian kept his eyes shut and lunged. _GOT YOU!_

Sherlock felt Sebastian hesitate–he struggled his way back to coherence– “Alpha?” a noise that he knew sounded desperate and needy whined out of him. _That was embarrassing_ … Sherlock lifted his head and bit at his Alpha.

 _The Omega didn’t want him? He wasn’t good enough?_ An inviting whine came from his Omega, followed by a bite to his shoulder.

“My Omega…?” Sebastian managed to get the question out.

“Idiot!” Sherlock answered with an affectionate snort and wrapped both legs around him.

Sebastian drove into him with a growl.

 _Oh thank GOD_ … Sherlock arched into him in relief.

~

Sebastian came back to coherence with the taste of blood in his mouth and a presence in his mind he hadn’t known he was missing.

“Stop thinking and fuck me again.” Sherlock had rolled over and was presenting his ass in a way that didn’t look submissive at all.

Sebastian pushed him down and grabbed his wrists. “Now I know why they always show this position: Omegas BITE!”

Sherlock hooked a leg around him and tugged, “Hurry up!”

“Yes, Sir…” Sebastian grinned and licked the back of Sherlock’s neck. “You are so much like–”

Sherlock growled, “And if you EVER call me Jim in bed I will do more than BITE you!”

Sebastian drove into him and grinned at the desperate noises Sherlock was making.

“Promises, promises…” He smirked down at Sherlock pinned under underneath him, “….JIM…”

He paid for that– it was worth it.

*

Jim woke up… maybe not? He was pulled up against Mycroft’s chest and Mycroft was feeding him.  _Protect, concern, tired…_

“Why does the room smell so awful?” _Why am I dreaming about Mycroft feeding me in bed but the room smelling so awful?_

“Jim?” _You’re awake?_

“Obviously not, since you’re being concerned about me.” _Pity._

“It’s been over 3 days, honestly I’m not sure how long anymore; you went into heat and your body couldn’t take it.” Mycroft wrapped his arms around him carefully– _I have a picc line?_

 _Yes, you do._ “Doctor Melton and Doctor Watson managed to stabilize you.”

Jim stiffened; _prison. He was back in prison_.

 _NO_. Mycroft bit the back of his neck gently and Jim melted with his mind going soft- _Alpha will protect me…_

“I know you hate that,” Mycroft said gently in his ear, “But it was the only way to get you to listen.”

Jim let Mycroft feed him more as his mind came back up to speed.

“Better? I didn’t want to talk to you until you were back.”

“Then why BITE me?!”

Mycroft sighed, “Because the panic and hatred hurts?”

“So does being in prison- so does being a damned Omega!” _stupid, STUPID biology…_

“You will never, EVER, be in prison–at least not here.  Jim… I made a promise, but you were unconscious, I’m repeating it now… If you want to leave, once you’re well enough I will try to let you go– try, I’m not certain how well that will work, but I’ll try.

Jim could feel the sincerity, but it was confusing…

“But I would rather you stay.”

“Since WHEN?!”

“Since I realized– really believed– you weren’t just acting.” Mycroft admitted. “I’m… You understand, people use each other, manipulate–God knows you do; you can play any emotion you want.”

“It’s useful.”

“I’m sure it is, but do you understand that it was VERY difficult for me to believe you?”

“Yes,” Jim grumbled and an image of Mycroft’s home and the smell of distressed Omega and perfume, flickered across the bond before he could stifle it.

“Ah,” Mycroft winced, “Yes, I thought you’d gotten that.”

John walked in carrying a tray, “I brought…” he stopped and looked at Jim, “You’re awake this time?”

“Apparently.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Good, can you NOT mutter things about my being an Omega, Sherlock’s bitch, or bomb vests?”

Jim twisted his head back to look at Mycroft, “I was what?”

“You, uh… muttered, sometimes,” Mycroft said; _he felt embarrassed?_ Jim realized that Mycroft was nude too.

“Great, well if he’s awake enough that getting cleaned up won’t drown the two of you; I suggest you go sit in the living room so the room can be cleaned.  Then I’ll get that line out, and then we can get the two of you cleaned up.”

“Thank you.”

Jim grumbled something that might have been thank you.

Mycroft started to get up to carry Jim and John glared at him until Mycroft sat back down. “I deal with your brother; you aren’t getting away with that! You’ve been in bed this whole time, neither of you are steady and if you FALL, then what?” John said firmly, “Jim gets a wheelchair, and you can lean on it.”

Mycroft nodded meekly– he did feel a bit dizzy–John stalked out.

“Maybe he’s an Alpha?” Jim asked dubiously. Mycroft just laughed.

*

Days of sex, more sex, and Sherlock occasionally agreeing to be fed–and on one occasion Sebastian had to bite him and hold him down until he agreed to eat– gave Sebastian a rather privileged view of how Sherlock worked. 

The bond helped, of course, in that Sebastian could tell that Sherlock lived with a constant swing between utter boredom– desperately seeking something to calm his mind and his nerves–and an obsessive focus.  Sex helped– for a few minutes at a time Sherlock’s mind would rest and focus on sensation– Sebastian could see why he’d used drugs.

No surprise that a lifetime hiding being an Omega left Sherlock a bit… prickly… about following orders.

“Are we going to be able to talk soon?” Sebastian had finally escaped the bedroom long enough to cook a real meal.

“I suppose,” Sherlock grumbled, “At least I can focus on something for longer than a few minutes before the chemicals take my mind off of it.”

Sebastian grinned and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, “You mean you can talk for a bit before you start threatening me if I don’t fuck you.”

Sherlock tried to pull his dignity together, which was difficult with a naked Sebastian wrapped around him feeding him bites of food. “Yes, well, biology and drugs are–”

“You need rules.”

Sherlock stiffened and snapped, “I am not going to obey you just because–”

“No, you’re not.” Sebastian sighed, “I’d sooner try to get JIM to obey me; I think I’d die faster.”

“Then what?”

“You need STRUCTURE, Sherlock.  I’ve watched you and John for a little while, and I have a bit of a privileged view of your head… I know I need structure–and you’re right, I do a lot better with orders– but so do you. We’re just going to have to work on some kind of a schedule and organization…”

Sebastian took a deep breath and continued, “and since it’s a problem for you I’m telling you right now AS your Alpha, that if you don’t eat I WILL pull you right off a case or out of your studies until you do– and I’d have the legal right, since you aren’t taking care of yourself.”

“That sounds awful pushy.” Sherlock turned his head and glared at Sebastian.

“It IS pushy, but you know you need someone to do it… I need something too.”

“What?”

“I need a job.  I need something to DO… Jim said it once and he was right; I’m like a hunting dog.” Sebastian shook his head, “I can’t work for Jim and be bonded to you, so I’m going to have to work for you.”

Sherlock slowly turned in his arms and stared at him. “You…want to work… FOR me?”

Sebastian nodded, “You need a bodyguard.  Especially now with those ARA idiots, and doubly so once it comes out that you’re an Omega.”

“You’re threatening to pull Alpha privilege on me, but you’re going to work for me?!”

“Only about your health–food especially–and yes.”

“You’re going to be able to take orders from your Omega?” Sherlock was incredulous, but… _he seemed sincere?_

“I better be able to, you’re going to order me around anyway.” He shrugged.

Sherlock thought about it: _He was protective; he’d been concerned about Jim but following orders_ – “OH! We have to call my brother about Jim!”

“I suppose I’m still not allowed to shoot him?” Sebastian growled.

“Only if Jim and I agree on it.” Sherlock amended, “I need a phone.”

They spent several minutes trying to find the phone, and then got delayed by an hour because the phone was too close to the bed.


	22. Turn off the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everyone has this fantasy that a bond will magically fix everything– it doesn’t. Even in the rare cases of telepathic bonding, it only HELPS break through communication issues. Look, if a person is used to repressing their emotions, or doesn’t even know why they react to emotional closeness by pushing people away, the Bond won’t fix that. You can actually end up with MORE aggression, arguments, and panic because the partners suddenly have this forced emotional closeness and no way to understand it or get any distance…” Dr. Lewis Gjurat on the Ross Show

After the line was out, and Jim ate some more soup, and they had gotten the first layer of sweat and grime off– Mycroft suspected it would take several more showers to get it all– he pulled Jim into the suite’s office.

“We need to talk.” He looked pained– he felt pained, like he didn’t want to do this–“and this room is secure.”

“You’re keeping something locked up behind that ice, what’s going on?” Jim was suspicious–Mycroft couldn’t blame him.

“I wanted to bring it up in private.” Mycroft sighed, “I know about Nichole.”

Jim froze, staring at him with those blank unreadable eyes, but Mycroft could feel the utter terror and hatred and despair.

“Jim, I’m not–”

Jim went to the ground as if it broke his knees to do it and put his head down– even without the bond the tension was palpable. “Alright Mycroft, you win,” Jim growled.

“I’m not going to hurt your daughter, Jim!”

Jim just stayed there. Mycroft gritted his teeth and pulled him to his feet. “Stop that, it’s unnatural.”

“An Omega submitting is VERY natural,” Jim snarled, “Ask anyone!”

“Well it’s not natural for YOU!” Mycroft snapped and let go of his arm. “I’d try to shake some sense into you but one of us would faint– and it might be me!” Mycroft snarled at him before he could say anything.

“If you got that much you know–”

“I know you gave her to a nice couple to raise, I know she’s a ballerina somewhere–because I saw one of her performances in your mind– and I know her name is Nichole.” Mycroft sighed, “I’m not interested in hurting her.”

“She’s a leash, a weakness, why wouldn’t you?”

“Jim… YES, I got a lot of your background: you have some of mine.  I refuse to turn into my father, I’d kill myself first. I couldn’t have you near me if you were miserable–if I was hurting you– I just couldn’t.”

“Then what do you WANT?!”

“Sherlock said it already… you’re the only Omega that could possibly keep up with me: I want you to stay… but I want you to WANT to stay.” Mycroft sagged into a chair. “I know that won’t be easy, for either of us.”

“And if I leave? What about Nichole?” _Of course I can’t leave, you’d kill her._

 _I will NOT hurt her!_ “I’ll do my best to make sure she has funds; I can–” Mycroft’s phone rang; it was a number he didn’t know. “I can make sure that anyone she’s” –it stopped– “with has a security screening if you like…”

“I don’t want you to have anything to DO with her!”

The phone started ringing again, same number. Mycroft glared at it.

“Oh ANSWER it!” Jim snapped.

Mycroft sighed in resignation and answered the phone, “This better be good.” He snapped into the phone.

“Is Jim there?” Sherlock’s voice, cautious but unharmed.

“Sherlock? Where have you BEEN? Everyone’s been looking–”

“IS. JIM. THERE.” Sherlock’s snarl carried through the phone as a low rumble.

“Some days you’re more Alpha than I am, Sherlock; yes, he’s here.”

Sherlock started laughing so hard he coughed. “Put it on speaker, I’ll do the same.”

“It’s Sherlock,” He said as he put the phone on speaker.

“Yes, I GOT that,” Jim snapped, “I’m not an IDIOT!”

“BOSS?! Are you alright?!” Sebastian’s worried voice came over the line. _He sounded a bit constrained._

“Sebastian?” Jim looked over at Mycroft in bewilderment.

Sherlock’s voice, terribly amused, “I went out looking for you, Jim, because I hadn’t heard about the explosion… and Sebastian thought he could make Mycroft trade you for me, so I got kidnapped.”

“WHAT?!” identical outraged howls from Jim and Mycroft.

“Tiger, what did I TELL you?!”

“Are you hurt, Sherlock?”

“I’m fine–although we need to have WORDS about your plans to have me kidnapped, Jim–”

“I did NOT! I told Sebastian to leave you alone!”

“Before that.” Sherlock snorted, “Well before.”

Mycroft was tilting his head and listening… Sebastian sounded muffled for a moment and then grunted as though he was shoved? Tied up? “Sherlock, what’s going on?”

“I still want to shoot Mycroft,” Sebastian grumbled.

“No!” Jim snapped.

“As I said, Sebastian, only if Jim and I both agree, and you heard him: ‘No’.”

Sebastian growled slightly. Sherlock sighed, “So, I take it you’re alright, Jim?”

“Apparently I went into heat.” Jim admitted reluctantly.

Sherlock muttered something that sounded like, “great minds think alike.”

Mycroft filled in, “He almost died. Doctors Melton and Watson managed to stabilize him. He’s alright NOW although much too thin.”

“Yes, well… I’m apparently at one of Jim’s safehouses, and I think all four of us need to talk.”

“Just because I won’t let Sebie SHOOT him doesn’t mean I think Mycroft should get his hands on him!”

“My brother is going to be a polite host, and Sebastian and I are going to come over–tomorrow from the sound of things– and we’ll have tea and a discussion–”

“Unlikely!” Jim  snorted.

“–because otherwise I call Mummy before the meeting and ask her if she’s got the wedding invitations done yet.”

“You…” Mycroft rubbed his forehead, “you would, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d enjoy it.” Sherlock said smugly; Sebastian laughed.

“It’s not a good idea to have a competing Alpha in the room with my bond-mate.” Mycroft sighed, “I’m not sure I can–”

“I’m not competition, Mister Holmes… I’ll shoot you if you hurt him, but… it’s complicated.”

Sherlock snorted, “Stop that, you sound like a Facebook status!”

“I take it you two are getting along?” Jim asked dubiously. _The hell was going on?_

“Wonderfully! He’s just–” it sounded like Sherlock had shoved something over Sebastian’s mouth.

 “We’re getting along quite well– shut UP Sebastian– I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Click

Jim and Mycroft just stared at the phone and then they both slowly dragged their eyes up to meet each other’s stare.

“Do you have the slightest–?”

“Not a bit.”

~

Sherlock let Sebastian’s head up from being shoved into the pillows.  He was a bit flushed but grinning.

“Kindly don’t give this away before we get there? I’m unhappy enough about being outed.”

Sebastian twisted his head to look up at Sherlock–who had made the call while more or less laying on Sebastian’s back. “Yeah, you and Jim, you both like the big dramatic reveal.”

“Well, we have until tomorrow.” Sherlock looked speculatively at the bed they were both on.

“So? un-handcuff me and get off my back?”

Sherlock arched an eyebrow and looked down at him, “No… I don’t think so… You DID say you wanted to work UNDER me, didn’t you?”

Sebastian blinked a few times and grinned back; “makes sense to try it in private first…”

 


	23. pull the stars from the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “England’s laws regarding Alpha/Omega rights are remarkably regressive given their other laws– some of the ones still on the books date back hundreds of years– but then you have to remember that their noble families consider the Alpha/Omega traits to be a hallmark of nobility, and the laws around the nobles have always been a bit different. Even if on paper the law grants an Omega the right to act against their Alpha’s wishes in some cases, most judges are unlikely to grant it just because of the cultural prejudices.” L. Finlay, Esq. in Playboy Magazine, discussing the recent court case in which a London court upheld an English Alpha’s exercise of “Alpha Privilege” in removing their Omega from work.

“I didn’t want Sebastian to do anything to Sherlock.” Jim said it like he was angry, but Mycroft had caught the flash of worry.

“He apparently didn’t harm him; in fact, they seem to be getting along rather well from what we BOTH heard. While I think having him in the room is unwise, I’m not going to–”

“You’ll have him arrested, at the least, no matter what Sherlock thinks of him.” Jim was staring at the wall. “What will it cost to keep him out of your damn cells?”

Mycroft could feel Jim sliding into despair–and in Jim that meant lashing out in every and any direction–despite his facade. “Jim… PLEASE, listen to me…”

“I already told you Mycroft, you win. What more is there to say?”

“For once in my damn life this isn’t about winning!” Mycroft felt his temper fraying and forced it back down. He took a deep breath.

“Jim… You’re brilliant, try to THINK. Why would I drag you in here where we can’t be heard to threaten your daughter? I’d have–”

“Because your office leaks like a damn SIEVE! I have five agents in here and God knows who else does, and there was that CIA stooge that reported to me–” _You know I couldn’t run; know I couldn’t do anything…_ Jim started panicking: _There is no way out of this building, now, and he has all the drugs…_

Mycroft stared at him and all the anger just went out of him. “Oh… I forgot…”

Jim fell back into the chair, dizzy from the sudden loss of controlled fury from Mycroft. It almost felt like… pity? Jim started to look for a weapon, any weapon…

Mycroft was suddenly on his knees in front of Jim’s chair. “No,” he said, holding both of Jim’s wrists.

Jim’s overwhelming urge to kick him in the throat battled with his damned instincts and lost.

Mycroft was still kneeling in front of him holding his wrists–it felt like Mycroft was fighting with himself, and then…

It was like standing on solid ground and having it suddenly shatter under you. Mycroft stepped backward into his mind palace, only this time he did it awake and deliberately… and brought Jim with him.

~

Jim shivered again at how relentlessly organized the man’s mind was, how ruthlessly cold, logical, hard: calculations and politics and cost-benefit analysis.

“I couldn’t help but see some of your past when you were so sick, James…” The voice seemed to be coming from behind him and he spun…

And blinked in complete confusion.

There was a dizzying array of mirrors and doors, memories and images….

“I can’t seem to explain… so, maybe if you see…” Jim could feel Mycroft hating this, _nausea, humiliation…_

…There was a parade of vapid, brainless Omegas–all Female at first, and then finally, with reluctance, a few Male–with political connections, and wealth, and advantages. The ruthless calculations said that several of them were ideal: political and financial advantages and they would not distract him from his work, or be in any way involved–Mycroft was physically sickened by them.

Oh, they were pretty, and several of them smelled enticing–one of them, not long before his father died, had been brought on the edge of Heat to try to force Mycroft into a Bond–but he never wanted to be his father. Besides, no one that wasn’t at least the equal of his tutors, his brother, or his mother was ever going to be considered.

…Mycroft trying to be a kind Alpha to his mother, when his father hurt her–impossible for a child, really, but he tried. The scent of distress, and perfume, and the quiet, desperate relief when his father died–and wondering how his mother could grieve. The mathematics and brilliance of his mother–forbidden to work in her field or publish until after his father died because she was an Omega–Mycroft’s utter fury at the waste of it.

The images and impressions shifted and blurred as doors opened:

…Jim, screaming that he didn’t want him, Jim coming up with plans to destroy him so devastatingly quickly, and just as quickly coming up with plans to help… The stunned marveling at a mind like his own, and not at all alike.

…The brother that he loved more than anyone, and couldn’t protect–not even from himself, and certainly not from his father–the sheer hatred of Jim for endangering him just when he finally seemed to be well…

Jim was forced backward in stunned shock–London endangered? Calculations and outrage–a lightning storm that rattled windows and threatened roofs–but Jim had threatened his brother? That was a storm to sink the Spanish Armada… all leashed and held in check by the pained knowledge that his brother didn’t want his help.

Jim hadn’t even known how tempted Mycroft was to have him killed, and damn the information they wanted–the information that was worth far more than Sherlock’s life, much less the paltry information Jim had wanted… officially. Mycroft had at least once been a moment away from ordering his ‘accidental’ death to safeguard Sherlock.

…Jim somehow–impossibly–gaining his brother’s sympathy… Mycroft’s tenuous hope–a faint dream of happiness–quashed as he realized it was all a trick.

…The desperate fear that Jim was going to be snatched away and die, just because he’d been a fool…

…The sheer self-loathing that even as his world fell apart–as his Omega was potentially dying in his arms–he’d had people bringing him work and politics kept demanding his attention. Holding on by the slim hope that Jim would live, and the fear that his brother was in some danger and would need him.

Door after door after door… Mycroft showing him every instance of cold cruelty, and every little part of him that died as he became more like his father… and the utter horror when Bonding to Jim had made him see it…

Jim recoiled away and threw himself backward out of the link.

~

Mycroft was kneeling on a rug in front of him trying to hold his fractured control together while Jim sat reeling in the chair.

Jim had seen–no, FELT–how hurt Mycroft had been when Jim had screamed that he didn’t want Mycroft. { _No one wanted me}_ their thoughts nearly identical _…_ It had taken him months–and a devastatingly invasive security check–before he believed that Anthea might have been interested in him and not just using him.

{ _No one would ever want me–too smart, too cruel, unable to care for most and caring too deeply when I did.}_ Mycroft’s and Jim’s truths echoing back and forth on the Bond.

“Your father was a complete ass and I’d have him shot if he was still around,” Jim snarled.

“Yes, he was. His dying was unfortunately the best thing that could have happened–and it was too late.”

“It’s no wonder you two are so fucked up.”

“Yes, well… we are.” Mycroft sighed, “And so are you… a perfect match.”

They sat quietly for a while. Mycroft got a tray of food brought in.

“Please eat.”

Jim ate, somewhat reluctantly, only the slight easing in Mycroft’s worry making it bearable.

“Nichole…” Jim whispered…

“No one knows about her but me, Jim, and I WON’T hurt her–I swear.” _I couldn’t live with you hating me that way._ Mycroft pushed more food over to Jim– _care, worry, protect, too thin…_

_Is food the only way you know how to CARE, Mycroft?_

_How do you show that you care?_

_…errr…_ Jim tried to think about the handful of people he cared about at all. “I don’t stab them?” he finally said hesitantly, remembering how often he hadn’t stabbed Sebastian when he was in a rage.

“Sebastian Moran…?” Mycroft asked hesitantly.

 _Of course he picked that up._ “What about him?”

“His military file is… heavily redacted at the best. Is… Is Sherlock safe with him?”

 _Sherlock, the person Mycroft cared about more than anything, who was alone with my best killer?_ _Sigh._ Jim supposed he couldn’t blame him. “Sebie… Sebie is a good dog. He needs rules; he needs someone to listen to.” Jim was struggling to put it into words, but Mycroft was getting a great deal from the Bond. Jim didn’t understand it himself and was trying to puzzle it out. “He likes hunting, he likes to kill people, but he’s not vicious. I’m surprised he went off on his own to kidnap Sherlock, but he must have been upset.”

“Be honest, Jim: you’re thinking ‘frantic’ and he’s been on your line for a while.” Mycroft could see how Jim had played the man.

“Fine. Yes, he must have been frantic. He found out I was an Omega at the same time he found out I wasn’t available anymore… and he was fighting his interest when he thought I was a Beta.” Jim sighed, “YES, I considered him as a potential Alpha, but…”

“But you go submissive in Heat and you didn’t want to take the chance.” Mycroft sighed.

Jim bristled, “I’m not–”

“I have no intention of forcing you into Heat, Jim. I don’t like even forcing you down by biting you.”

“HE did.” _My first Alpha._

“Whatever else you may have to say about me, I’m not him.” Mycroft moved a little closer. “I don’t mind… the contact; it’s… pleasant.” _The feel of Jim in his arms, Jim curled up sleeping, licking his neck._

Jim growled at him.

“But however pleasant that IS… I liked it when we were going over plans, figuring out solutions…” Mycroft stared at his tea. _It’s a relief to have someone else who can think… and your mind is so brilliant… even if I wish you weren’t so violent._

“I’m violent because that’s all the world out there respects,” Jim snapped.

“I know. Sherlock tried to explain it to me; I didn’t understand it until later. You can’t show any weakness.”

Jim snorted, _Like you can, Iceman?_

“No. And don’t call me that, you know better.” Mycroft sighed. _There was no hiding the truth, not anymore._

“True, you’re like one of those soft cream deserts with a candy shell. You look hard but underneath you’re fluff.”

Jim flinched as echoes of Mycroft’s Alpha father fed back on the Bond. _{Caring is a weakness}_

“We both know that,” Jim muttered, images of Nichole flickering across his mind.

Mycroft reached out hesitantly, “I don’t know how else to be. My brother utterly hates me–”

“He adores you–but I think he’s almost as bad as you are about showing it–and you already explained why he resents you being an Alpha.”

“Most of the time he refuses to see me: I have to drop by unannounced or he vanishes.” Mycroft stirred his tea. _I failed him._

“Biology failed him,” Jim said with a snort. “It utterly backstabbed me, after all.”

_Please stay._

_And then what?_

_I don’t know._ Mycroft shook his head, “I never expected to Bond–never wanted to. I had only hoped that once some political issues settled down I might be able to marry Anthea.”

“She seems nice–competent,” Jim admitted grudgingly. _I’d hire her_.

“She… is. I don’t know if she’s nice… but I can trust her.”

“Fuck nice–trust is worth its weight in plutonium.”

“Errr… Don’t stab her?” Mycroft thought about Jim and caring…

“Dear GOD did you actually make a joke?”

“I was trying.”

Jim shook his head. “You need to get out more, you know?”

Mycroft looked around the suite in confusion. “Out?”

“Your whole life is this office, your club, and visiting your brother.”

Mycroft mumbled, “I visit Mummy on occasion.”

“When’s the last time you went to a show?”

Mycroft pulled up his internal calendar; Jim stared at him, “Four YEARS?”

 _I had to: politics._ “When’s the last time YOU went to one?” Mycroft asked huffily.

“March,” Jim shrugged, “not counting shows where I went for business.” Jim chewed his lip thoughtfully, “Sherlock said you cook.”

“I enjoy cooking–possibly more than my waistline would like–but I eat out a great deal because of my schedule.”

“I can’t cook.” Jim had a flash of hatred that he couldn’t manage the ‘typical’ Omega skills, combined with a loathing of even trying. _He probably wants an Omega that can cook._

“If you ever want to learn, I could teach you, but… Mummy doesn’t cook either, she has a hired staff.” _Anyone can cook, most people can’t THINK._

“I’m a born clothes horse,” Jim said suspiciously at Mycroft. _And I won’t wear crap that makes me look soft_.

Mycroft smirked, “So am I, so is Sherlock, and…” Mycroft muttered, “I rather like how you look in a suit.”

Jim threw his head back and laughed, “You do? Your style is so different–straight-laced, old fashioned… Not that you don’t wear it well, but I always want to mess you up.” Jim grinned at him.

Jim almost choked on his tea as he got the answering INTEREST in being messed up, followed shortly by a bewildered embarrassment.

Jim stared at him in shock. “The heavens have stopped in their courses, Iceman, you’re blushing!”

“Yes, well…” Mycroft got up and went out hurriedly muttering something about “telling people to expect Sherlock” and “ordering more food.”

Jim carefully closed himself off as much as he could–made easier by Mycroft trying to do the same for the sake of his dignity– _If Sherlock was alright… and Mycroft actually kept his word and treated Sebastian well… and didn’t bother Nichole… maybe?_

“Caring may not be a virtue, Iceman, but hope is a fucking curse.”

*

John was relieved to hear that Sherlock had turned up, even if it was in his usual infuriating fashion that left more questions than answers. Anthea was frustrated as well, having been unable to find him on the cameras.

“I suppose he might have been holed up somewhere the whole time,” John suggested.

“Probably. I hope he can settle this down; they’ve been so tense since Moriarty woke up.”

“I don’t know…maybe? He did before…” John sighed, “I think tense is to be expected.”

“Well, once I deliver another round of food and paperwork… I think WE’RE overdue for dinner,” Anthea smiled tiredly. “There’s a little place around the corner–completely security checked, the owner is a retired operative–that’s open twenty-four seven, has mediocre food, and coffee that can eat your spoon.”

John smiled, “With a glowing recommendation like that? How can I resist?”


	24. 'Cause the players gonna play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are any number of drugs that can induce a heat in an Omega, or a Rut in an Alpha. These drugs generally do not change the type of behavior that the Alpha or Omega would normally exhibit in a Heat or Rut, but they often induce a more extreme version. An Omega who in their usual Heat is submissive and sex-seeking will become nearly mindless under some of the heat inducing drugs. Sadly too many countries permit Alphas to drug their mates into a Heat as part of their ‘Alpha Privilege’. Rut inducing drugs are not treated as casually, probably because an Alpha in an induced Rut tends to kill people.” – MORS representative Jeremy Wright speaking on the need to restrict access to Heat inducing drugs.

Sherlock and Sebastian arrived by taxi and walked in to the building.  Sherlock smiled to himself as the reactions hit. Mycroft’s office knew Sherlock– having him walk in in his Belstaff and scarf was notable, but not unheard of– Sebastian, though… taller than Sherlock by just a bit, blonde, unmistakably military, unmistakably Alpha… walking like a predator just behind Sherlock…

“Stop smirking so much,” Sebastian said quietly as he smirked back, “Or you’re going to give it away.”

“When you stop smirking, I’ll stop” Sherlock tried to keep a straight face and failed.

“Sherlock?” John called out as he came up, “Why didn’t you let me know you were going out, we had…all… sorts…” John trailed off staring up at Sebastian.

 _Both Army, both crack shots, both loyal to a fault_ … Sherlock found himself struck by the similarities at the same time as he found himself amused by the height difference.

“John, this is Sebastian: Sebastian, I believe you’re acquainted with John.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve never met.” John said firmly, looking back at Sherlock with a questioning look.

“We haven’t, Captain.” Sebastian had the almost stereotyped Alpha rumble under his smooth Oxford tones, now that he wasn’t trying to hold back, “But I worked for Jim– I’ve seen you a lot.”

“You…worked for…?” John frowned, “I’m supposed to take you both up. Jim’s still not up to a lot.” He added with a warning tone. “He keeps thinking he is, but he isn’t.” John glared at Sherlock, “like some other people I know.”

“I understand you treated him. Thank you.” Sebastian said very sincerely.

“You’re welcome… never expected to treat the lunatic who put me in a bomb vest, but–”

“Err…” Sebastian fidgeted.

Sherlock put his hand on Sebastian’s arm

John kept looking at Sherlock for an explanation, but he knew he wasn’t going to get one. Sherlock had that peculiarly smug look that said he was going to show off about something.  “Whatever it is, try to keep the fireworks to a minimum?” John sighed.

“Ah… yes, speaking of which… can you go in and tell the two of them that  we need to start this off with just the four of us?” Sherlock looked apologetic at John, “As you said: fireworks. Let it settle a bit first.”

“Right…” John glanced back up at Sebastian. After a bit he shrugged and walked away, muttering “Ours is not to wonder why…”

After a bit Anthea came out, “They’ll see you in the secure suite; it’s where they’ve been since leaving medical.” She looked at Sherlock thoughtfully, “I know it’s a lost cause but TRY not to aggravate your brother?  They’ve both been under stress and it’s been all we could do to get Mycroft to sleep.”

Sherlock had the good grace to look a bit sheepish.

They were shown in.

Jim was sitting in a chair with a blanket, still looking ill, and Mycroft was sitting in a chair next to him trying to look cool and collected– while holding Jim’s hand.

Sherlock’s smirk returned instantly. “I did tell you, Sebastian.”

“Sir?” Sebastian looked Jim over suspiciously, and glared at Mycroft.

“Take it down a notch, Tiger.” Jim said tiredly. “Now what’s all this about kidnapping Sherlock?”

“I was worried about you.” Sebastian muttered.

Sherlock casually sprawled into one of the remaining chairs. Sebastian took up a position next to it and slightly…

 _The son-of-a-bitch was guarding SHERLOCK?_ Jim sat forward and started sputtering. Sherlock SMIRKED at him.

Mycroft was flinching with the headache from Jim’s outrage, and the typical headache that went along with dealing with his brother: they’d apparently BATHED Sebastian in scent neutralizer as well– _ridiculous since he was obviously an Alpha_. “Sherlock, what are you–”

“Sebastian?!” Jim’s voice shrieked into the Omega harmonics, “What are you DOING?!”

Sherlock sipped at his tea, looking inordinately smug, but… more of it aimed at Mycroft? Mycroft got out a headache pill.

“Err... yes, about that… I’ll still kill Mycroft for you if you want,” He glared at Mycroft, “and I’ll help you get out if you want, but… um…. I have to resign.” Sebastian fidgeted and put his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock reached his hand up and patted Sebastian’s hand.

“You have excellent taste, Jim; one day you MUST tell me how you found him, but… with you bonded to Mycroft it really wouldn’t work out.”

As soon as Jim thought about lunging out of the chair Mycroft pulled him back. _But he’s_ _MINE!_

_No, Jim, not yours… I don’t understand it at all, but… he’s not yours anymore._

“Sir?” –and Sebastian was addressing Sherlock, not Jim– “Now you’re just being mean.” Sebastian’s hand flexed on Sherlock’s shoulder.

“True.” Sherlock sighed, “I suppose I just feel like taking some sort of advantage while I can.” He looked at Jim, “It’s not you, Jim, I simply enjoy one upping Mycroft for once.”

Mycroft cleared his throat, “Alright Sherlock, I admit it–you’ve stumped me.”

Sherlock damn near purred: Jim glared at Sebastian, who tapped Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Alright, then let me explain.” Sherlock sighed slightly, “I went out to try to find Jim and got kidnaped,”

“You said that.” Jim snapped.

“There were a number of misunderstandings– Sebastian very literally intended no harm to me, but of course I didn’t believe that at first.”

“Alright.” Mycroft was studying them both, “It must have been quite the fight; you’re both bruised at least.”

For some reason they both grinned. 

Jim frowned, “Tiger…?”

“Sebastian ended up taking me to the safehouse where you had been prepared to kidnap me–I’m a bit annoyed about that.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Jim.

Jim’s eyes widened as he realized WHAT safehouse…“Errr… well… it was just an idea…”  Jim remembered some VERY illicit ideas involving a captive Alpha Sherlock… he flushed, and Mycroft was glaring at him. _You were going to do WHAT to my baby brother?_

“You had a tranquilizer that you SWORE was harmless,” Sebastian growled.

“It IS!” Jim protested.

“Yes, well, it’s harmless for an Alpha…” Sherlock shrugged and started taking off his coat, “but I’m not an Alpha.”

Mycroft could see the tranquilizer, and the room, in Jim’s mind.  _Sherlock must have been less affected, and turned the tables on the Alpha, Sebastian? Knocked him down?...  But then how do we get to THIS?... and Jim we are going to have WORDS about this._

Jim was shrinking into his chair and grumbling, _it was just an IDEA; it never got anywhere…_ “It just doesn’t work as well on a Beta, and it’s still harmless.”

“Yes, well… I did say I wasn’t an Alpha, Jim: I just never said I was a Beta.” Sherlock took off his scarf and sat back–waiting.

…

There was stunned silence as Mycroft and Jim stared at the bites on Sherlock’s neck and then their thoughts tumbled over each other: _Not a Beta, Omega!_ _That’s not possible! He CAN’T be! Why would he hide? Are you DAFT, Mycroft? Sebastian? What does the drug do to Omegas?! Oh my God he’d go into heat…_

“You’re an Omega…?” Jim whispered staring at him with wide eyes.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, “You two are a LOT alike…”

Mycroft was trying not to believe it. _I couldn’t possibly have missed that… it’s not possible!_

“Mycroft,” Jim growled, “Are you going to deny the evidence in front of your nose AGAIN?”

Mycroft sagged back into his chair. _No, no I won’t_. “How…? How could I have missed that?”

Sherlock sat back and stretched out his legs “If it was just you, brother mine, I wouldn’t tell you– I’d let you figure it out– but since Jim isn’t well yet and this does involve Sebastian…”

“If Sebastian bonded you against your will…” Jim glared at Sebastian, but much to his surprise, Sebastian just laughed.

“Oh, sure… after he kicked my ass across the room, and damn near bit my shoulder off.”

“That reminds me,” Sherlock frowned slightly. “Mycroft, you have to teach him to cook– God knows I can’t: he’s already a decent cook but you’re better.”

“He… like what happened to us? You went into heat and he lost control?” Mycroft sounded so utterly bewildered that Sherlock took pity on him.

“Not exactly.  Normally my heats are extremely mild–”

“Lucky.” Jim muttered

“With the drug it was somewhat worse than usual.  Sebastian very considerately tried to lock himself into the room you had set up for an Alpha.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, “Which would have been fine except he came stalking in, kicked me out, and demanded that since I bought ‘ingredients’ instead of food, I should go cook.”

Mycroft laughed before he could stop himself.

Jim stared at them both, “how the HELL do you kick an Alpha around when you’re in heat?!”

Sherlock tilted his head, “Do I take it that you have the more typical reaction?”

Jim snarled– and Mycroft could feel the utter self-hatred and anger on the bond like a tidal wave– “I turn into a damned stereotype.” 

Mycroft wanted to pull him over and wrap his arms around him, but knew Jim wouldn’t welcome that; he tried to picture it as clearly as he could. Jim grumbled and twitched his shoulders as though he was shaking off an arm, but settled back in the chair.

Sebastian cleared his throat, “Sherlock turns into you.”

“I become rather snappish and aggressive,” Sherlock expanded on his comment, “I always have, but it was worse this time from the hormone shot.”

Mycroft shook his head, “Back to the POINT, how have you managed to hide this?” his eyes went wide, “does MUMMY know?”

Sherlock winced, “Well, no.”

Mycroft got a malevolent smile. Jim could not only feel the schadenfreude– he could see Mycroft rubbing his hands in glee despite everything. “Well, Sherlock, it seems that we shall have to tell Mummy about YOUR matters first– at least she knew I was an Alpha, she’s going to be DELIGHTED to have another Omega in the family…”

Sherlock winced; Sebastian winced and rubbed his forehead from the bond link, “Well… Yes.  I expect it will finally explain why all of the neutral scent products ran out so quickly.” Sherlock muttered.

Jim was somewhat enjoying the show, but had to ask, “So Sebastian didn’t go feral on you?”

“Not until after we discussed things: I dragged him into the bedroom, and then demanded he chase me.” Sherlock admitted, shifting uncomfortably.

Jim stared at the two of them and then queried Mycroft on the bond. _Chase_?  When he went into heat he wasn’t going to drag anyone or run from anything; he just curled up in a ball whimpering, presented and begged, or tried to lick his Alphas neck. _I could run from a strange Alpha if I was bonded…but… how did he fight him? run?_

 _No idea_. Mycroft shook his head. _Like I know anything about Omegas? That was part of the problem, wasn’t it?_

Sebastian grinned like a loon, “He’s fast, vicious and cunning–it was great.”

“Sebastian is an evidently superior Alpha,” he looked at the two of them, “We’re well suited to each other, and I suspect we were starting to bond even before I went into heat– before you ask, I get emotions, and a faint idea of preferences and I have a very clear idea of where he is, but nothing like yours.”

“You honestly… can take a swing… at an ALPHA… while you’re in heat?”

“I avoid Alphas when I’m in heat for scent reasons, but also because in general the…” Sherlock looked distinctly uncomfortable, “You really have no idea, do you?”

Jim just shook his head, after a pause Mycroft did as well. Mycroft pointed out, “I don’t know that much about Omegas– as you know– and Jim couldn’t be seen doing too much research on the subject.”

Jim didn’t say anything but Mycroft could feel the grudging gratitude on the bond.

“I apparently react in a fashion that is estimated to be a minority of Omegas, but since no one has done any proper research at ALL we don’t have good data–”

Sherlock was just getting started on a lecture when Sebastian broke in worriedly, “Sherlock? Sir? I know that look on Jim, please just get to the point.”

Sherlock looked up: Mycroft was looking annoyed and impatient, Jim looked…Sherlock could almost smell chlorine, he went on hurriedly.

“Yes, well… it’s an atavistic response designed to ensure that the fittest Alpha is the one that breeds.  I’ll either start gleefully setting Alphas to fight each other, or I’ll fight if there’s only one in range.” Sherlock coughed faintly, “the more respect I have for the Alpha the less vicious I am.”

“Wouldn’t that get you KILLED?” Jim was trying desperately to wrap his mind around the idea.

“As stated, usually my heats are mild and I just hole up in my apartment  and growl at people–who notices?” he shrugged.

“That would be typical.” Mycroft muttered, “And of course you would never see me during a heat.”

“You did come over once,” Sherlock admitted, “I started a spectacularly awful chemistry experiment.”

“And none of the Alphas ever hurt you?!” Jim was doggedly returning to that topic.

“Of course they did, but an Alpha that isn’t a psychopath is fighting to subdue and mate– not hurt: it gives me an advantage.”

“Oh, that reminds me– thank you for not throwing the glassware.” Sebastian said suddenly.

“Broken glass?” Sherlock snorted, “You’re welcome, but I had no intention of crippling both of us.”

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. “Who knows?”

“Outside of this room? Victor– an old ‘friend’–” Sherlock snarled as he said it and Sebastian growled…

“What did he do?” Sebastian narrowed his eyes, “Need me to shoot him, Sir?”

“He tried to convince me to bond with him, and when that rather spectacularly didn’t work he tried drugging me into heat,” Sherlock named a chemical, “it induced a much stronger reaction than the tranquilizer shot, of course.”

Jim looked at a wall somewhere beyond Sherlock, “I know.” _That was what my Alpha used on me…_

Mycroft growled, if only there was anyone left he’d rip them limb from limb.  Jim was lost in his head, remembering being drugged, forced down, unable to think– it was a horror that Mycroft had never imagined before bonding to Jim.

“Jim… I’d kill them. I’d like to say slowly, but it wouldn’t be.” Mycroft laced his fingers through Jim’s and tried to get him to eat.  _I never wanted a goldfish, Jim._

Sherlock was uncomfortably looking down at the stitching on his coat.  Sebastian had no idea what to do, but…

“Isn’t there someone I can kill?” he said hopefully, looking mostly at Jim and then back at Sherlock, “There’s gotta be something.”

Mycroft hoped focusing back on Sherlock would help. “What happened?” Mycroft asked quietly. “Sherlock? With Victor… what happened?”

“Oh? Well he was stupid, and I had very little respect for him, and he threw me into a rather overwhelming heat… I had to reconstruct everything from the police reports and so on later, you understand.”

Everyone nodded.

“Apparently I broke his arm and a rib and gave him a concussion– he claimed it was a gang.” Sherlock winced, “Then I apparently ended up in a bar filled with Alphas and instigated a mating riot…”

Jim was starting to giggle.  _GOD I wish I could do that!_

 _No, no, that’s a BAD idea!_ Mycroft had the sudden image of Moriarty setting an entire bar full of Alphas to riot.

 _It’s a terrible idea and it wouldn’t work, Mycroft, but I still wish I could…_ Mycroft could see the idea catching Jim’s attention…

“And somehow ended up in a drug den, which is how one of the few other people who knows found out.” Sherlock concluded. He looked up at Mycroft’s expression and glanced at Jim, “What?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, “Let me guess, Boss– err…” Sebastian sighed and went on, “Let me guess, you think that sounds like a great idea?”

Jim grinned broadly, “I know how I could do it, too…” Chemical formularies and sources for artificial Omega hormones were running through his head at speed.

Sebastian groaned, “Please don’t, Sir?”

Mycroft rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I don’t suppose it would help in the slightest if I asked you not to?”

“If you can actually ASK and not order it,” Jim narrowed his eyes at him.

Mycroft took a deep breath, “I’m QUITE certain you could engineer such a thing, I’m ASKING you not to do so?  Or at least not to do so unless there’s a legitimate reason that involves your personal safety, or national security? Please?”

Sherlock’s mouth dropped open. He shut it with a click and looked over at Jim, “Do you have any idea how peculiar that was?”

Jim was looking a bit astonished at Mycroft himself, “Yes… well...” _He actually did… damn.  That must have been painful, Mycroft._

_It was; can we change the subject?_

“So… uh… who else knows?” Jim asked, “I killed everyone that knew about me– as far as I know– with a handful of exceptions.” _Nichole’s parents probably suspect but they’ll keep their mouths shut or else._

“Victor, Bill– the friend who helped me hide and recover, and who figured out what I was given– a doctor who provides extremely private suppressants and physical exams,” Sherlock sighed, “And Irene.”


	25. Take me with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The laws regarding Alphas and Omegas usually mirror the laws covering Male and Female interactions. This is partly due to the association of Alpha with Male, and Omega with Female, however the laws for Alpha/Omega matters tend to lag anywhere from decades to centuries behind, and are often more extreme. For example: while Beta Females might have the option of “Pleading the Belly” or marrying a gentleman to escape sentencing, an Omega was almost always excused on the grounds that they must have been manipulated. Notorious pirate Anne Bonny escaped death by Pleading the Belly, but if she had been an Omega it would have been assumed that she was simply acting under authority of her mate and pardoned– although she might have been forced to marry a respectable Alpha to keep her controlled. – An excerpt from the textbook: “Gender in Criminal Law”.

Mycroft sat back pinching his nose: Irene was always trouble.

Jim sat forward and started swearing in an admiring tone, “Oh that thrice damned bitch!” he sat back and Mycroft could feel the war between fury and admiration, “She didn’t tell me– obviously.”

Sherlock sighed, “She rather enjoyed teasing me about it and dropping veiled hints in conversations.  It was excruciating.”

Jim shook his head and laughed, “Well you are rather her opposite number I suppose.”

Mycroft suddenly snapped his head over at Jim as he saw the meaning, “She IS?!”

Jim blinked back at him, “You didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?” Sherlock frowned.

“Oh… well she’s an Alpha.  That’s probably how she found out: scent.”

Sherlock stared at Jim in utter shock.

Jim looked back and forth at the two brothers, “Ah… no of course you wouldn’t think of it.  I suspect that’s how she’s gone unnoticed for so long, no one expects an Alpha Female, so if anything points to that they discount it.”

Sherlock looked more than slightly red in the face, “I saw rather a great deal of her… I would have thought there would be…”

“I have no idea whether she was subjected to ‘corrective’ surgery as an infant”– both Holmes flinched– “or if she simply doesn’t have many of the external characteristics in any case, but she’s an Alpha.”

“Corrective…?” Sebastian asked finally.

Sherlock answered, “Many intersex Male/Female children, as well as many Female Alphas are subjected to gender assignment or ‘corrective’ surgery at birth. They are often not even informed that they ever HAD any surgery.”

“That’s horrific!”

“Yes.”

Jim rather firmly changed subjects, “You’ll tell Johnny Boy first thing, Sherlock.  I’ve rather gotten to like him even if his taste in clothes is appalling.”

Sherlock smiled, “He’s an excellent doctor, for all that he wasn’t trained in Omega medicine.”

Mycroft started to speak and his phone rang, “Oh for–!” he cut off suddenly with an actual PANICKED look on his face.  Jim was getting the horrible feeling of panic– from Mycroft?!– and vague guilt and was trying to figure it out when  Mycroft abruptly tossed the phone to Sherlock.

“It’s Mummy, you answer it!”

Sherlock had already caught the phone when he heard ‘Mummy’ and stared at it like it was a grenade. “Why would I answer YOUR phone, Mycroft!?” Sherlock hissed and tossed it back.

Mycroft put his hands behind his back as though that would help and hissed, “YOU talk to her, you’re better with Mummy, she always liked you more!”

“That’s not true and you know it, Mycroft!” Sherlock hissed back, “She just wants to check and be sure I’m not using– but she called YOU!”

“I don’t fucking believe it…” Jim muttered and reached down and grabbed the phone.  He answered it and put it on speaker: “Mrs. Holmes?”

“Yes? Who is this?” a very sharp and commanding voice came from the phone– not at all what Jim expected from Mycroft’s memories of a wounded Omega.

“IS this Mrs. Holmes?” Jim said in a very puzzled tone even as he got the confirmation along the Bond.

“Yes… wait, let me guess, BOTH of my boys are there and they were trying to make each other answer?”

Jim grinned, “Got it in one.”

“And you are?”

Mycroft interrupted, “Mummy? Sherlock has some NEWS for you!”

“So does Mycroft…” Sherlock growled.

Jim just rolled his eyes, and Sebastian was looking around in a sort of lost fashion.

“Oh BOTHER you two… out with it!” Mrs. Homes snapped.

When it looked like the two of them might possibly set the air on fire glaring at each other Jim sighed and calmly said, “How do you do, Mrs. Holmes, I believe I’m your new Omega-in-law.”

There was an indrawn hiss of breath followed by a shriek that overloaded the phone.  Mycroft flinched.

“Oh how WONDERFUL!!!! Mycroft, you finally? But you never said anything!”

Sebastian spoke up then, “Mrs. Holmes? I suppose that would make me your Alpha-in-law… Sherlock has a lot he wasn’t telling anyone.”

Sherlock flinched and there was absolute silence on the phone and then a rustle of fabric– Mrs. Holmes sat down– “I beg your pardon?”

Sherlock reluctantly said, “I’m an Omega.  I didn’t want anyone to know.”

A longer silence on the other end of the line then a sharp, “Mycroft! Did you know?!”

“No Mummy, I just found out less than an hour ago.”

“I see…” several deep breaths, “Alpha?” it sounded like a question but Sebastian heard the command voice.

“Yes, Ma’am?” he reflexively sat up straighter.

“Who are you and how did you get involved with my boy?”

“Errrr…”

Sherlock cut in smoothly, “He’s someone who was mixed up in both Mycroft’s and my business.  We ended up having to stay in the same safe house and–”

“Has he caused you any problems?” Jim was impressed at the threat level in her voice.

Sherlock grinned at that, “No, Mummy– he’s very nice, even if Mycroft does need to teach him how to cook better.”

“Your name, Alpha?”

“Moran, Ma’am, Sebastian Moran…”

You could actually hear her narrowing her eyes at the phone, Jim was impressed. _She has a very expressive voice and a lot of charisma, Mycroft._

 _Wait until you MEET her, she can be terrifying_. Mycroft muttered back along the bond.

“Any relation to LORD Moran?”

“Unfortunately, yes– He’s not speaking to me at the moment, but that would be my father.”

“If you take after him I will have you shot.”

Jim looked happily at the phone, “I LIKE her– Mycroft why didn’t you tell me I’d LIKE her!”

Mycroft was looking sort of puzzled at Jim, “I… actually didn’t think you two would get along…”

“Mrs. Holmes? I assure you, Sebastian is a very nice Alpha. He was my bodyguard and sniper.”

Both Holmes boys started reacting, Sherlock cringing and covering his face; Mycroft waving his hands frantically at Jim.

“Oh? That sounds unusual… You needed a bodyguard?”

“It is all rather unusual, but yes. As to Mycroft and myself; I was on heavy suppressants,” Jim couldn’t help it, he loved chaos and this was utterly delicious… “the suppressants failed and Mycroft walked right into a room full of injured Omega pheromones, I’m afraid he didn’t tell you because it was rather sudden and until recently we were trying to figure out if we could break it.”

Her voice got softer, “Oh… Oh Myke…” it sounded sympathetic, not blaming, but Mycroft flinched anyway.

Sherlock interrupted firmly, “They are an excellent match.”

Jim laced his fingers through Mycroft’s, “Honestly, Mycroft, better to get this over with– like taking off an adhesive.  Sebastian thought he needed to rescue me from Mycroft, and ended up kidnapping Sherlock. Unfortunately since I’d been convinced Sherlock was an Alpha, and then told he was a Beta, the sedatives I’d had on hand…”

“That can be broken.” She snapped. “Kidnapping an Omega–”

“No!” Sherlock said very firmly and with an edge of panic. “Absolutely not! Where else am I going to find an Alpha that LISTENS to me?”

“What’s this?”

“I-I’m going to be his bodyguard?” Sebastian said hesitantly, “after the blog post…”

“I’d thought that was mostly from our family experience…” She breathed out in a long sigh, “All four of you will be out at the estate tomorrow.” They all recognized an order when they heard one.

Mycroft cleared his throat, “Jim isn’t well enough…”

“Oh? Why not?”

Jim almost collapsed under the crushing waves of guilt from Mycroft.

Sherlock smoothly picked up, “He did say he was injured, Mummy.  He can probably travel in a few days.”

“Do I need to come to London?”

“NO!” both Holmes boys said in unison.

“Certainly not, Mummy, you know you hate it.” Mycroft said hurriedly, “and Jim is really in need of rest…”

“And all FOUR of you are alright with this?”

“Yes Mummy,” Both boys chorused.

Jim started giggling, “You sound like you’re SIX.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Sebastian nodded as if she could see him, “I couldn’t be more alright with it!”

“Sherlock… can be difficult…” She said slowly.

“Yes Ma’am.” Sebastian grinned, “I already told him I’m going to make him actually, you know, eat, sleep, things like that.”

Sherlock grumbled, “You said nothing about sleep.”

“I am not going to let you fall off a roof chasing a suspect just because you won’t take care of yourself!”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “Good luck with that.”

“Hmmm…” Mrs. Holmes voice sounded equally dubious and amused. “Alright, Omega… Jim?”

“James Moriarty– well, most recently anyway.”

“I presume that despite your inauspicious beginnings you are also ‘alright’ with this?”

Mycroft reflexively flinched.

“Oh do STOP it Mycroft.” Jim sighed, “Neither of us are very good at… well neither of us are very good at communicating and unfortunately I had a very bad Bonding experience in my early life.”

“Ah…”

“However Sherlock is correct, we are a very good match.  I expect we’ll need…. Counseling… or something…” Jim made faces at that. “But surprisingly, yes I am ‘alright’ with it.”

Mycroft started breathing again, and was busy trying to pretend he wasn’t about to cry or anything silly like that.

“Very well. This weekend: I expect all four of you at the estate. Mycroft? I expect to hear about the EXCELLENT care your Omega has gotten.”

“Yes, Mummy.” Mycroft still sounded like he was six.

“Sherlock? I expect you to explain EXACTLY how this was concealed for this long and why you didn’t tell me after your father died.”

“Yes, Mummy.” Sherlock sounded like an under-slept and cranky six.

“I’m very happy that you both found someone, even if it  sounds very complicated, and I am NOT happy that I had to find out this way instead of you behaving like reasonable adults and TELLING me.”

“Yes, Mummy.” They both replied; Mycroft with a sigh and Sherlock rolling his eyes.

“And don’t roll your eyes at me young man!”

Sherlock flinched, Jim cackled, and Sebastian was grinning like a shark.

“This weekend. PROMPTLY!”  and  she hung up.

 


	26. Got nothin' in my Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tale of Robin Hood and Maid Marion has gone through so many revisions over generations, that everyone forgets that Marion was an Omega– and without an Alpha to speak for her was under the protection of the Crown. Prince John was standing in stead of her father or other guardian as a protector of an Omega with no Alpha to speak for them, since any Omega was assumed to need a guardian. The same ‘Protection of the Crown’ would be automatic in the event of a found or commoner Omega who had no Alpha or noble to speak for them– this continues under law to this day. – from “Myth and Common Law” by Alfred Collins

 “So…” Sebastian grinned down at Sherlock, “If you don’t listen I just call your mum?” Sherlock groaned.

“She’s… not at all like I expected, Mycroft.” Jim was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Mycroft looked utterly puzzled, “Why not?”

“Most of the time you were thinking about her you pictured a very refined and controlled Omega being abused by her Alpha… who’d been crying and upset.”

“She… was…” Mycroft shrugged, “I don’t understand?”

Jim just smiled faintly and shook his head. “I was expecting a silly mouse of an Omega.”

“Mummy?!”  Both Holmes exclaimed with matching shocked looks.

“Ridiculous!” Sherlock snorted. “If Father hadn’t been Bonded to her she would have dealt with him quickly enough.”

Jim lost his smile, “Yes… well…”

Mycroft actually physically put his arm around Jim. “He’s gone. I wish I could go kill him again, but I can’t.”

“I… Uh…” Sebastian fidgeted, “Fine! All three of you can figure everything out from little stuff and I’m stupid. You were Bonded before?”

“You’re not stupid,” Sherlock sighed, “Just… maybe compared to us.”

“I was Bonded before.” Jim said gritting his teeth. “Mycroft already put it into a FILE!”

“A secure one?” Mycroft  ducked his head faintly and tried to look apologetic.

Jim shook his arm off, “You don’t HAVE any secure files! Your damned office leaks like a sieve.”

Sebastian was looking back and forth trying to figure it out. “He’s dead though? I don’t have anyone to shoot?” he said with a disappointed tone.

“He’s been dead for years, Tiger, he was a London crime boss– it’s how I got started.” Jim sat back and shrugged at Sherlock more than anyone, “After I shot a few of his friends who knew too much I was left with a group of criminals who only knew that I was the boss’ accountant– that I’d been responsible for  us making more money– I leveraged that up.”

“Brilliant…” Sherlock breathed. “I assume you couldn’t shoot him?”

“No. I probably could have if he’d tried to Bond me NOW… as an adult… our Bond was horribly weak.” He glanced at Mycroft. “Not at all the same.”

“Yes, well… that brings up the whole reason I needed to put that in a file…” Mycroft cleared his throat.

“Because you’re obsessed with control?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, THANK you Sherlock for your opinion which I didn’t ask for!”

“Delighted to help, Mycroft.”

Mycroft cleared his throat. “Yes, well, there are some legal ramifications that need to be settled…”

Jim sat back into the chair and looked at him with a very calm expression–Mycroft felt the heat under that cool exterior. “Like what?”

Mycroft glanced at Sherlock and made a gesture like dealing out a card, “First, you were an Omega of common birth, without proper upbringing, bonded on your first Heat by a criminal.”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide and he stiffened: Sebastian sat forward and gasped.

“So?” Jim was fighting to keep his control– he wanted to stab things.

“What do you mean ‘So’?” Sherlock stared over at him… “Oh my God you don’t even know, do you?”

Now Jim was getting angry, “Know what?” he growled slowly.

Mycroft sighed and looked down at the spot he had placed an imaginary card, “As an Omega your Alpha is presumed to be responsible for a great deal of your behavior. As a commoner, specifically one coming from a background where they would not be taught– a found Omega, with no family to teach them– you are automatically presumed to be under the sway of your Alpha.  ANYTHING you did from your childhood until at least your first Alpha’s death is considered to be erased.”

Mycroft looked up calmly, “That’s why it had to go in a file, Jim.  You very literally cannot be charged with ANYTHING that came from before your Alpha’s death, and very little for several years after that, since it is presumed you were continuing to follow a pattern he set.”

Jim started to protest and Sherlock suddenly snapped out, “STOP it, Jim– you don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t!”

“One of the few things we have proof of is the murder of Carl Powers,” Sherlock waved at the imaginary card, “As a developing found Omega, you would be presumed unstable and not guilty by reason of that.  The fact that you were Bonded to a criminal– I assume by force?”

“What force? It was my first Heat– I had no idea what was going on: I couldn’t even think straight.”

Sherlock nodded, “You didn’t understand, and hadn’t agreed in advance, and as a newly found Omega you aren’t considered CAPABLE of consent to Bond– you should have been a ward of one of the noble houses or the Crown.”

“Boss…” Sebastian leaned forward, “Your criminal record just vanished. That’s what they’re trying to explain… EVERYTHING gets blamed on being a found Omega without proper upbringing, and your first Alpha.”

“What?” Jim stared at all three of them and then focused on Mycroft… “It… does?”

Mycroft nodded and tapped the imagined card. “It doesn’t matter how capable you were, it doesn’t matter how much proof anyone has. Jim, anything at all– including Carl Power’s murder– is simply not going to stick.” He looked up at him thoughtfully, “It’s one of the few times the laws and customs that pre-suppose an Omega’s incompetence are in your favor.”

“Convenient… and ridiculous, besides it’s been years since my first Alpha died.” Jim narrowed his eyes, “And I’ve done a lot.”

Mycroft nodded, “For the most part, however– barring testimony from the people in this building– there is very little that can be proven.  That being said, however, there is another card in play…”

Sebastian’s eyes almost glowed, “Oh… Oh shit…Do you have enough rank for that?”

“Rank is irrelevant.” Mycroft said calmly, “The statute says a ‘Gentleman”– which I am– of good reputation: My service to the country is without reproach, and the Queen could always intervene directly–Liz always liked me.”

“Now I’m lost…” Sherlock frowned, “What have I missed?”

Mycroft held up a second imaginary card, and dealt it down over the first. “In the event it became needed to erase any further criminal charges, there is a lesser known law on the books.  That law states that if an UN-bonded Omega is found guilty of any crime, their charges are pardoned provided they are bonded to an Alpha of suitable rank and good reputation.”

Sherlock stared at Sebastian and Mycroft, “That hasn’t been used in centuries!”

Jim frowned, but Sebastian shook his head, “Last case was actually only… what? Sixty years ago?”

“Close,” Mycroft nodded.  “During the war an Omega was found to be passing information to the Germans.  She was convicted and sentenced for treason, and immediately arranged by her family to be Bonded to a noble Alpha in a rather remote area of England.  The assumption was that she was acting under the authority of her family, or because she was easily swayed, but in any case she was Bonded and her Alpha was therefore in custody of her– her crimes were immediately put aside.”

“I don’t like the way this sounds.” Jim growled.

“I understand that,” Mycroft nodded, “But in this case the law is in your favor– even if for the wrong reasons– You were bonded to a noble Alpha, and anything you did previously can be set aside. “ Mycroft held up a hand, “It would be PREFERABLE not to use that, as it has a number of other complications as well as making it look even more as though I dragged you into interrogation in order to force you to Bond to me– we all understand that isn’t true, yes?”

Sebastian looked at Jim, “He didn’t know?”

Jim shook his head, “No, Tiger… No one did.  His interrogators– Beta of course- were acting oddly and they called in Mycroft to figure out why: he walked into a face full of pheromones.” Jim shrugged, “he went feral; I went feral, and the rest is obvious.”

Sherlock smiled at Jim, “Well, we shouldn’t have to use that law, but it’s always good to have the option.”

“I don’t LIKE that option!” Jim snarled, “I don’t like being here, I don’t like dealing with it!”

Mycroft just said quietly, “I know.”

Sebastian shrugged, “it doesn’t change the facts, just what anyone can do to you legally.” He narrowed his eyes, “You’re still at risk of assassination, but I guess Mycroft has people for that?”

“Of course.” Mycroft sighed.

“You DO understand that if Jim asks me to shoot you–”

Sherlock growled. “I was rather firm on that requiring a two person authentication.”

Jim was staring at the spot on the table where imaginary cards had been put down. “I don’t want him shot, Sebastian; I want to burn down the entire legal system.”

Sherlock sighed and sat back, “Common Law took centuries to get to where we are, it will take a while to fix, but an immense amount of progress has occurred even in the last two decades.” Sherlock looked down at the table, “Even so, it will take longer for us… Alpha and Omega laws always lag behind.”

Mycroft rubbed at his face and Jim started feeling the exhaustion behind the calculation and politics.

“Yes, well… that brings us to your problem, Mister Moran.”

“My problem?”

“Your military file was heavily redacted, to say the least.”

Sebastian looked around thoughtfully, “I haven’t talked to anyone about my military career, not even Jim.”

“This room is as secure as it can possibly get, and my clearance is as high as it can get.” Mycroft said drily. “I trust you understand that I am concerned about what my brother has gotten into?”

“I’m not.” Sherlock snorted.

Mycroft just waved a hand, “Irrelevant.”

Jim tensed, but… he really didn’t feel a threat from Mycroft, more like caution.

Sherlock sighed, “I assume you were discharged over the incident with the Bonded Omega?”

“WHAT incident?” Jim sat up straight.

“Huh? Oh… no,” Sebastian sighed, “No. I just got a mark on my record for killing the other Alphas– presumably killing them since I was kind of blacked out.”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, “I need this explained immediately.”

“Wasn’t it in the file?” Sebastian asked, and then shrugged uncomfortably, “I was doing a sweep of a village that had been bombed and abandoned, and suddenly came across several of our military Alphas attacking a Bonded Omega in Heat.” He shifted and Sherlock grabbed his hand very firmly, “She was already injured badly… I don’t actually have any idea what, if anything, I did to her, but by the time I woke up I had killed the other three Alphas,” he looked down unhappily, “She was dead, although honestly that might have been a blessing based on what I saw when I got there.”

Jim felt his heart rate go back to normal. _Dear God that poor thing…_ “I highly doubt you did ANYTHING Sebastian, other than kill the Alphas.”

Sherlock rather firmly stated, “His reaction to an UNbonded Omega in heat was to try to ascertain consent.  Even after he managed to catch me he tried to  get his head clear and talk, so I highly doubt he would have done anything intentionally  damaging.”

Mycroft looked impressed– and guilty.  Jim sighed, “Outside, and not in a closed in interrogation room– it would be a bit different.”

“Not different enough,” muttered Mycroft.

Jim shrugged, “Sebastian? I never asked why you got discharged, but I could find out if I wanted to know, so fess up.”

Mycroft grumbled, “Your FILE says you were discharged over gambling.”

“I was.”

There were three sets of eyes staring at him incredulously, “What?”

“I was discharged for gambling– or to be specific,  for organizing gambling events that  some  of the local power players kids lost money in– despite gambling being  something no decent Muslim does.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Politics.”

Mycroft stared at him in dumbfounded shock. “Your file is redacted at a clearance level that  took ME this long to dig out, and you were actually discharged over GAMBLING?!”

Sebastian quirked an eyebrow at Mycroft, “With all due respect, Sir, they wouldn’t discharge me for anything in the top secret files: they’d shoot me– they had to discharge me because of a NON classified problem.”

“Oh…” Mycroft was blinking a lot.

Sherlock looked curiously at Sebastian, “You did a lot of classified work?”

“Yes, and I don’t talk about it,” he shrugged.

Jim chewed on his lip worriedly, “You can’t throw him in your damn cells, Mycroft; Sherlock would be hurt”

“I’m not arresting him!” Mycroft groaned. “I just needed to find out what I was dealing with!”

Jim looked down at the table and Mycroft could hear him trying to figure out what it would take to  let him go– what hurt the most was how he automatically assumed it would involve degrading himself and groveling.

“Stop it.” Mycroft said firmly. “I’m NOT anything like your damned first Alpha.  I already figured out how to reinstate Sebastian to an honorable discharge– even get him a respectable career if he wants one– and the only thing you have to do is keep eating your food and resting!”

“You can change my discharge?” Sebastian asked dubiously.

“Of course he can,” Sherlock shrugged. “What story are we using?”

“Sebastian Moran was ALWAYS an undercover operative for intelligence, assigned to infiltrate Moriarty’s network. The dishonorable discharge was cover and since– as Jim keeps pointing out– Moriarty has spies in intelligence it was played very close, with only a handful of people knowing the truth.” Mycroft explained. “I have the paperwork prepared and back dated.”

Sebastian looked dumbfounded, but Sherlock nodded, “Simple, effective, and it doesn’t have to be “public” per se, only if someone inquires.”

Jim was looking quite neutral, but Mycroft could feel a sort of hesitant thank you on the Bond.

“You would, of course, have had your pay deposited into an escrow account,” Mycroft nodded, “and your time in service, and benefits accruing the entire time.”

Sebastian looked over at Jim, “Sir? Is that what you want?”

“I thought you resigned?”

Sebastian pressed his lips together and then sighed, “I worked for you, sir. This would affect YOUR reputation and business.  Even if I have to resign going forward …”

Sherlock sighed, “For GOD’S sake you two… you are hardly going to be separated!  We’re all in-laws: I expect we’ll see more of each other than we ever did before– Mummy will insist.” He rolled his eyes, “Jim, is it alright if my Alpha is officially UN-discharged?  I expect his father is going to have enough fits with him Bonding to me already, and Mummy would insist on Mycroft fixing it as soon as she found out anyway.”

Jim quirked a smile at Sherlock. “That’s so strange… the idea that we’re all in-laws…”

Mycroft nodded, “I’ll get that paperwork filed then and by the end of this weekend, Colonel, you will have ALWAYS been on a top secret assignment from my office.” He sat back, “Now all that’s left is to get Jim in good enough shape that Mummy doesn’t skin me.”

“Not entirely,” Sherlock winced, “I have to tell John and hope he doesn’t skin ME.”

 


	27. I shake it off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Operas and other tragedies are full of star crossed romances: the classic is always the poor Beta in love with an Alpha or an Omega, because that always ends badly.”– From “Understanding Opera” by Nigel Penning.

After a great deal of argument, it had finally been decided to invite John into the conference room rather than have Sherlock go out. John–who was clearly not stupid–came in looking suspicious.

“So, what horrific mess do I have to clean up now?”

“Why do you assume it’s a ‘horrific mess’, Doctor Watson?” Mycroft asked.

Jim snorted, “It involves secrets and Holmes’–what else would it be?”

“And you,” John nodded solemnly at Jim.

“Who, me?” Jim bared his teeth. “I’m a domestic little thing.”

“And I’m Paddington Bear,” John said with an arched eyebrow. “But in any event, Sherlock had that ‘stunning revelation’ look going on when he came in, so what is it?”

“Errr…” _Oh dear God, Sherlock was fidgeting._

John slapped a hand over his face, “It can’t be anything as simple as bodies to get rid of–one of you lot could do that…”

Sebastian actually perked up. “We’re good at that!” he said happily and then sagged. “But they keep coming up with problems I can’t bloody well shoot!”

“Welcome to my life,” muttered John. “Alright Sherlock, spit it out.”

“I’m an Omega.”

“Hah. Not even faintly plausible, try another one.” _God, he had the strangest sense of humor._

Sherlock took his scarf off again… He was bitten and bruised in a frankly sexual fashion… John snapped his head to the one fairly discreet mark on Jim’s neck he had been told was a Bond bite–although Bonds could form without them, it was apparently the easiest method–and back to Sherlock.

“You?”

“Errr, yes?”

Sebastian coughed faintly, “The Boss had thought Sherlock was an Alpha and the tranquilizers he had that I used on Sherlock sent him into Heat… Uh… Hi?”

“You… and Sherlock…?”

Sherlock nodded, “Sebastian was quite polite and courteous, but I get rather… aggressive… during Heats.”

“Do you…” John was putting together facts rapidly. “Those moods when you apparently take lots of showers and won’t leave the flat and get even crankier about the snacks and the tea?”

“Well, sometimes, yes.”

~

“So you two are Bonded, because you snuck out a window and… Sebastian?… here tranqed you and…?”

“Yes, basically.”

Mycroft was expecting a lot of things, but for once he read the situation entirely wrong: he saw the tensed muscles and the anger and just naturally ASSUMED John would hit Sebastian.

John laid Sherlock out on the floor with one punch.

Sebastian was taken by surprise such that by the time he jumped up to DO something about John, Sherlock was sitting up with a groan.

“Sebastian, SIT!” Jim snapped.

Reflex had Sebastian back in the chair before he realized that might not be a good idea.

“Yes, do,” Sherlock said. “John, why did you hit me?”

John went off, at length, in proper military fashion, dressing Sherlock down. By the time he was done, Sebastian was looking rather cornered, Mycroft looked impressed, and Jim was sitting forward with a fascinated look on his face–Sherlock was standing there, nodding and trying to look contrite.

“Yes, but why did you hit me?” Sherlock asked him patiently when he finished.

“I have JUST spent the last several days getting a crash course in Omega biology,” John said with an underlying tone of menace that seemed entirely lost on Sherlock. “Information which you apparently knew, and didn’t choose to tell me. Information about things like drug interactions, transfusion issues, and unusual reactions to medication…”

“Errr… Yes?”

“AS your live-in doctor, Sherlock,” John was hissing the words through gritted teeth, “that means I could have accidentally KILLED you because you never bothered to tell me you were an Omega.”

Mycroft sat up suddenly, “Oh my God…”

Jim nodded, “Yes, that is a problem–of course, I didn’t have anyone I trusted to tell, but I am a bit surprised you didn’t at least educate Johnny Boy here about Omega biology.”

“I… would have had to explain why we needed to know…” Sherlock said guiltily.

“No. You. Wouldn’t.” John bit out each word. “You could have given me at least the basics on the grounds that we might need to help an Omega trafficking victim or domestic abuse case, but you didn’t even do THAT.”

A low pitched growl from Sebastian cut off whatever Sherlock was about to say. “You should, and could, have at least made sure John knew emergency procedures. I may be hurt and upset that Jim didn’t tell me, but I AM an Alpha, and I understand he was worried–I also didn’t live with the man.”

Sherlock looked back and forth between John and Sebastian, “It’s a lifelong habit to avoid ANYTHING that might cause questions…”

“Sherly is right in one point,” Jim said, “you develop habits so you don’t slip up. With Mycroft being as observant as he is? Even if you didn’t say a word, Doctor, someone might have noticed–and that’s dangerous.” Jim nodded thoughtfully, “However, I am certain that if he THOUGHT about it, he could have found a reason to get you the basics: it probably never occurred to him–then again, he doesn’t take care of himself very well.”

“Which is why I need to know things that would affect treatment for, oh, reacting to being poisoned stabbed, shot… the usual things that happen to you!” John’s voice was getting louder and Sherlock was looking guiltier.

Mycroft quietly stated, “He’s quite right.”

Sherlock sighed, “Probably. I’m sorry John; it very literally never occurred to me to trust anyone with this information–of course now… everything’s changing.”

John looked Sebastian up and down again, “You two are Bonded?”

“Yes.”

“God help you.” John shook his head, “You’re only advantage is that at least it SEEMS that Moriarty isn’t trying to blow anyone up anymore, so you’re marginally less likely to…” John narrowed his eyes. “Sniper.”

“Ummm… Yes?” Sebastian shot a very quick glance around, but it didn’t look like there were many places to take cover.

“If you even THINK about hurting Sherlock I will hunt you down and treat you to field surgery without benefit of anesthetic,” John said in a quiet tone that was much more worrisome than his prior yelling.

 _Mycroft? Are you SURE he’s not a secret Alpha?_ Jim thought along the Bond at him.

 _Well… Wouldn’t he have noticed Sherlock? Or vice-versa?_ Mycroft knew his file said Beta, but indeed he had a great deal of presence when he wanted.

“I, uh, Sherlock is great! I wouldn’t try to hurt him…” and then Sebastian sighed and sagged slightly. “Besides, either of the two Omegas in the room could probably lay me out flat.”

Jim looked up, “Not really, although I might be able to hamstring you if you weren’t careful.”

Sherlock considered, “Given that you took me down rather efficiently when you kidnapped me, I have to say you would win in a stand up fight–my main advantage is that you DON’T want to hurt me.”

John looked back and forth grimly, “Lovely, just lovely: both Holmes brothers completely out of their minds–I knew that–and both of them bonded to lunatics…” his voice went up again, “And I could have KILLED you by not knowing how to treat you!”

“Errr… I am sorry? It never occurred to me… nice shot, by the way.”

“Military doctor–for some reason, people remember the doctor and forget the military.” John glared at all of them in turn. “I’ve had to take down military Alpha’s before–especially when a couple of them started making snide Omega comments about my height–so I suggest you give me a few to cool off before springing any MORE surprises on me.” He spun on his heel and went out.

~

Anthea looked up as John Watson came stalking out of the conference looking utterly furious.

“Is there someplace I can hit things?”

“We have a small don’t-call-it-a-gym-because-it-doesn’t-deserve-it,” she said, wondering what in the hell got him so upset.

“Does it have things to hit?”

“Yes.”

“It’ll do.”

She took him down and he lit into the punching bag like it had assaulted his mother. After the first few flurries of brute force, he took off a few layers of clothes and started going after it in a controlled fashion: if it had been alive, it wouldn’t be.

“You… um… have a personal vendetta against sand and canvas?”

“No.” He was sweating and breathing hard and gave the bag one last martial kick. “But if I hit any of the four bastards upstairs this hard I’d kill them.”

“Oh, easily: several times over, at least.” She smirked, “I had to replace the bag the last time I came down here to work off my upset. I stabbed it… a lot.”

“Explains why it’s new…” He gratefully accepted the towel she handed him. “When was that?”

“Right after I realized that my lover was bonded to Omega Moriarty and they weren’t going to break it,” she sighed, “and again when I saw how he acted with Jim being so ill.” She sat down next to him. “We thought he was dead in the building explosion, you know. I kept on with the work, and looking for them, and keeping things running… and then he was alive and I was so damned relieved I almost forgot–thought things might go back to normal…” She sighed. “They won’t. God, those two…”

“Yeah. They were holding hands the whole time I was in there, pretty much.”

“You don’t seem surprised that Mycroft and I were…”

“I saw the way things were when I got brought in for medical… it made sense of a lot suddenly.”

“We weren’t always: it was a working relationship for a long time.”

“I never got the impression Mycroft Holmes trusted anyone, so if he had a relationship there weren’t many options.”

She sighed. “He had me investigated personally–as if the security vetting I got working for him wasn’t enough–because he was convinced it was a trick or something… I should have realized he’d be the same way with him. Worse, of course, since Moriarty wasn’t even remotely on his side.”

“Makes sense–he did try to hire me to spy on Sherlock.” Then john’s mouth twisted and he muttered something darkly.

“So… feel like telling me what caused you to swear eternal vengeance on punching bags?”

“I take it this room is secure?”

“Yup. And I locked us in.”

“Sherlock was hiding a very big secret, from me and his family.”

She shrugged, “Not new, he does that. New drug addiction?”

“No. Did you know that his family threw him out for being a Beta?”

“His father,” she corrected. “His mother is… different. She doesn’t approve of the two of us, but she talked to me about it–she said she was just convinced that Mycroft would break my heart when he met the right Omega.” She leaned her head onto down onto her hands, propping her elbows on her knees. “Turns out she was right.”

John put an arm around her shoulder. “One of my army buddies told me Betas should never get involved with Alphas or Omegas for just that reason.”

She nodded, “So… what’s the big secret Sherlock is hiding this time?”

“No… the whole time. He’s an Omega.”

“That’s not even a good joke.”

“That’s what I said right before he showed me the Bond bite.”

Her eyes snapped wide open and she stared at him, “That military Alpha that came in with him?”

“Yeah… the military Alpha who used to work for Jim Moriarty.”

“They were in there a while, and Sherlock didn’t look unhappy coming in…”

“Oh, he’s fucking THRILLED as far as I can tell.” John rolled his eyes, “He’s got that Alpha on a leash, looks like.”

“How was Mycroft?”

“Looked okay with it–I got the impression it was Jim who was a bit put out.”

“Oh, hell… That’s the Alpha that picked Jim up from the van isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but Jim snapped an order at him and he obeyed, and then Sherlock was ordering him around a bit too. I was seeing pretty red, so I probably missed a lot.”

“I… thought you two weren’t together?”

“We weren’t. I thought about it for a bit, but… he drives me insane as a best friend–as a lover I’m pretty sure we would kill each other.”

“You’re not gay, though.”

“Bi, but I prefer women.” John shrugged.

“Sherlock… is an Omega… Oh GOD–and his family didn’t know?”

“Nope.”

“His mother will skin him.”

“I’ll pay to watch,” John muttered vindictively.

“No, you shouldn’t, she’s terrifying! She finds things out… things she shouldn’t know–MI5 should hire her.”

“I thought you liked her?”

“I do, but she still scares me. I’ll have to call her.” She looked back at John, “So… that’s a lot of upset for just friends.”

“We’re more than just friends–we just aren’t lovers.” He shrugged, “But I could have killed him by accident as his doctor, since I had no idea how to treat an Omega… Not only didn’t I know he was one, but I’ve been learning things I SWEAR they should have taught me in my basic medical training: things like drug interactions, and so on. Not knowing… I could have killed him.”

“Oh…” She thought about everything she’d learned recently. “Damn, and with him getting shot and stabbed and poisoned...”

“Exactly.”

“Wait…” It hit her then, suddenly. “They BOTH were secretly Omegas? BOTH of them?!”

“Yeah… Strange world isn’t it?” He shook his head. “So, there’s this horrible little place with lousy coffee I went to with a mysterious lady… want to go?”

“How mysterious?” she grinned at him.

“Wouldn’t even tell me her real name.”

“Sounds iffy, I wouldn’t go places with a woman like that.”

“Yeah, well… I would.”


	28. I come along but I don't know where you're taking me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The phrase, ‘Loose lips sink ships’ was a real motto in wartime for a reason: gossip travels fast and often reaches places you would never expect. Spy agencies worldwide have people on the payroll just to hang about on social media as well as getting memberships in clubs, gyms, and so on where people who might know something can be found. Charity parties and social events have a great deal more influence on national security than most people are comfortable admitting.”– Memoirs of a Spy, by Anonymous.

In the end it was Jim who insisted Sebastian and Sherlock go to Baker Street. He pointed out that not only did Sherlock and Mycroft get along about as well as wet cats, but that he was going to continue ordering Sebastian around if he was here, and it made things awkward.

John took Sebastian aside and apparently told him where everything was in the flat, how to handle Sherlock’s experiments, and threatened him in some fashion that left Sebastian looking wide-eyed at John–but he wouldn’t tell anyone what he said.

And everyone started counting down until Friday afternoon when they were expected to go out to the estate and meet Mummy.

*

Sebastian had never been in the Baker Street flat: outside of it, sure, good line of sight from a lot of places after all, but never inside. It looked like Jim had been on one of his research benders in there.

“Uh… so can we hire someone to clean this up or what?”

“Clean what?” Sherlock asked in confusion.

Sebastian carefully picked up a sock that appeared to be quite bloody and stiff. “Well…”

“Oh… Yes, I dropped that,” Sherlock nodded. “That was supposed to be on top of the cabinet.”

“Why is a blood-covered sock supposed to be on top of the cabinet?”

“Because the other one is under the sink,” Sherlock said going to the fridge and muttering. “We’re out of milk and the toes have gone off.”

“Toes…?”

“Yes, I had toes in the fridge to see if they’d mummify. Anyway, we’re out of milk.”

Sebastian pinched his nose, “Are you asking me to get milk?”

Sherlock blinked at him, “Yes.”

“Then you need to use a specific phrase, with some combination of ‘Sebastian’, ‘Please’, and the thing you want me to do.”

“Did Jim?”

“Jim routinely threatened to kill me, I wasn’t having sex with him, and he never asked me to buy milk–although he might have asked me to dispose of it once or twice.” Sebastian looked pointedly at Sherlock. “I thought you wanted a SLIGHTLY better relationship with me than he had.”

Sherlock grumbled something that might have been taken as “Sebastian please go get milk.”

“I will be happy to go get milk, AFTER we have cleaned up the kitchen so there is a place to put everything, AND we have taken an inventory of what we need so I only go once.”

Sherlock got really annoyed about him throwing out some of his experiments, but Sebastian tying him to the bed and fucking him shut him up–well, he yelled “Oh God, more” and “Right NOW, damn it”, but he stopped whining about the fridge.

It was after that–when he was getting ready to go shopping–that Mrs. Hudson came home. Sebastian had seen her through a view scope before–and knew her file, of course–but it was a bit eerie to see someone in person after all that.

“Yoohoo! Boys? You’re home?” she called cheerfully, and then cried, “OH!” as she saw Sebastian.

“Ma’am,” he said politely.

“Mrs. Hudson? This is Sebastian: he’ll be staying for the week,” said Sherlock.

She stood blinking a lot. “Oh… um… my….”

“I’ll try not to be much trouble, Ma’am. I got the kitchen cleaned up and I was about to go shopping–do you need anything?”

“Are… you a guard?” She glanced at Sherlock and then her eyes tracked to his neck. “Sherlock?!”

~

His hand flew to his neck as he suddenly realized what she’d seen. “Oh… um… Yes… Well, you see, I’m actually…”

“–an Omega, dear, I know,” Mrs. Hudson nodded, and then her eyes tracked to Sebastian. “Oh! Is this your Alpha?”

Sherlock was standing dumbfounded: he was rarely shocked, but he certainly was now. “You… knew?”

“Dear, you always sent John out shopping except for when you got a delivery from one of your friends and it was always neutral body wash and things like that… and you got so tetchy right on a Heat schedule…” She looked back and forth, “You never introduced me…?”

Sebastian grinned. “No one else knew he was...”

“Oh dear, poor John!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Did you break it off gently?”

That broke him out of his shock and he groaned. “Mrs. Hudson, we were NEVER a couple–and John only found out I was an Omega when he met Sebastian… As to introducing you, I only met Sebastian recently: I had a drug reaction and went into Heat…”

Sebastian nodded. “It’s actually really lucky we worked out so well.”

“Hmm… You cleaned the kitchen?”

Sebastian nodded again, “I made a start on it, Ma’am. I think it will take a few passes.”

“You’re doing the shopping?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Frankly, I’m afraid to think what Sherlock would come home with if I sent him.”

“You’re not going to do anything silly like have him give up his career, are you?”

“No, Ma’am.”

She looked over at Sherlock and nodded firmly. “I approve of this one, but I still feel sorry for John.” She looked back at Sebastian, “When you get back from the shopping, I’ll bring up some lemon squares and we can get to know each other.”

“I’d… be delighted.”

She marched off. Sherlock and Sebastian just stared at each other for a while.

“She knew?” Sherlock muttered.

“Nosy old women can find out stuff spies would miss,” Sebastian said very firmly.

…

When Sebastian got back, Mrs. Hudson did indeed bring up lemon squares. She politely threatened Sebastian about Sherlock–and John–and more forcefully threatened Sherlock about John–and Sebastian–and went off to talk to Mrs. Turner.

*

Mycroft would a hundred times rather have waited until Jim was completely recovered before seeing Mummy, but he knew better than to try to delay things. What he HADN’T even slightly prepared for was that Anthea was driving and John Watson was coming along.

“Do I need a doctor or a military guard for this one, Mycroft?” Jim drawled in his usual laconic fashion upon seeing the two of them at the car–along the Bond, though, was the ever-present paranoia about being taken out and shot, or worse.

 _It’s news to me,_ he pointed out along the link, and then cleared his throat. “Anthea? John? Did you need a ride to Baker Street, Doctor?”

“Oh, I probably should go pack a weekend bag,” John nodded. “I doubt Sebastian has Sherlock ready to go–he doesn’t have the trick of it yet.”

“Is there any point in asking why the two of you are attending?” He glanced at Anthea, “especially since Mummy–”

“Mrs. Holmes,” Anthea said calmly as she pulled out into traffic, “told me point blank that you would break my heart when you found your Omega–she was obviously correct. She was otherwise quite pleasant and told me to keep in touch. Given that she proved to be correct, I called her after you told her about Bonding, and she invited me.”

Mycroft got out his headache medication and started bracing for a nightmare of a weekend.

~

John did in fact have time to pack a bag and change clothes while Sebastian dragged Sherlock out of his various delays and avoidances.

“I must say, I’m impressed by the state of the flat,” John said as he got the two of them into the back with Jim and Mycroft.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Either Sebastian cleans or he got Sherlock to do it–my money is on the military training the Alpha to clean, frankly.”

“Just being an Alpha doesn’t get you out of cleanup detail,” Sebastian snorted.

Jim laughed, “Especially not after that incident with the daughter of–”

Sebastian whined, “Sir! Please?”

Sherlock sighed, “What incident?”

Sebastian sighed. “I had no way of knowing she was underage, especially since SHE came on to me, and in that dress… Luckily her dad caught up to her before we got very far–just kissing, fortunately–or it could have been bad, but as it was I was on shit detail for months.”

Mycroft looked thoughtful, “Oh, yes, I remember that in your file–in fairness, the young lady didn’t look that young in her school photos either.”

“Well, she was in a plunging neckline dress, and if I was the father of a girl that looked like that I wouldn’t let her wear that OR go to an embassy party with drinks!” Sebastian grumbled, “She looked over twenty.”

Taking some sort of pity on him, John started talking about some military incidents: nothing classified, just funny stories like the time there was a snake in the latrine, or the time someone accidentally exploded a can of soda and everyone went diving for cover. That led to Sebastian talking about a few of the less personal incidents, including one where a monkey ran off with a generals hat and was seen for months around base–everyone saluted.

Mycroft was eventually persuaded to share an incident in which two Members of Parliament got SO drunk that they went home with the wrong women, and the rather delicate cleanup involved in THAT…

Sherlock tried to contribute, but apparently all of his “funny stories” involved death and dismemberment, and the only one who thought they were funny was Jim. No one asked Jim to contribute.

“So why doesn’t Anthea tell any stories?” Sherlock asked huffily.

“First of all, because I’ve been driving,” she said with a laugh. “Secondly, because the best funny stories I have are classified; and thirdly, because we’re about to be there and you have just a few minutes to straighten up.”

~

It wasn’t a grand home–but it wasn’t a small place, either. It was an older small estate with a lot of land around it and Sherlock quietly pointed out some trees he used to climb, and Mycroft pointed to a small bridge and a creek that apparently ran under it and declared that Sherlock sailed ‘pirate boats’ there.

They were met by a small gaggle of servants, most of whom stared wide-eyed at the two Holmes couples until there came a sharp “Does it take all of you to get their bags?” from behind them.

Standing in the doorway was a woman who couldn’t look more like Sherlock without dying her hair black. She was tall, far taller than any Omega–except Sherlock–that Jim had ever met, and she had the pale, piercing eyes of both of her sons. Her hair was white and she stood very straight despite using a cane.

“That’s Mummy?” Jim finally managed to say.

“Yes,” Mycroft nodded.

“How did you miss Sherlock being an Omega then: he looks just like her!”

No one really had an answer.

“Anthea,” Mummy said, sounding very sad, “I am so very sorry, my dear.”

Anthea walked up and after a pause for permission hugged the woman. “You were right.”

“It’s the curse of our genders, my dear, truly.” She patted her cheek gently. “Even if he never Bonded, the risk of his losing control…” She looked over at Sherlock and frowned–Sherlock cringed.

John sighed, “How do you do, Ma’am, I’m John Watson.”

“Oh? Sherlock’s friend…” Mrs. Holmes looked between Anthea and John and suddenly smiled. “Well, both of you are adopted family in any case… so let’s get everyone settled and then I need to talk to my boys in private.”


	29. 'Cause the players gonna play, play, play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “An Alpha may take a swing at you, but Females and Omegas will eviscerate you politically and socially. The most terrifying ordeal I ever faced was a Female Omega who nearly started Word War Three without ever raising her voice or putting down her tea cup.”– Lewis Clarkson, U.N. ambassador.

“I think it’s a hint,” John said after they unpacked and came back downstairs.

“It’s not a hint,” Anthea snorted, “it’s a bat to the head!”

“What is?” Jim asked as he came in on Mycroft’s arm.

“We have adjoining rooms,” John said waving at Anthea.

“In fairness, there are not that many guest rooms,” Sherlock sighed, “but yes, Mummy did rather look matchmaking at the two of you.” Sebastian agreed silently.

Mummy came in at that point. “Dinner will be a simple business,” Mummy said nodding toward the dining room. “Everyone is probably quite tired, and I’ve sent all but the live-in servants and guards home.” She showed everyone to the dining room.

It was uncomfortably quiet to most of the non-Holmes people, judging from the way everyone kept looking at each other, expecting someone to break the silence. Jim finally decided to be the first.

“So… how DID everyone miss Sherlock being an Omega? He obviously inherited your stunning good looks.”

Mummy smiled faintly, with the same exact quirk of the lips that Sherlock had, “You, sir, are a flatterer.”

“I’ve been accused of it,” he nodded, “but in this case it’s quite true.”

Mycroft sighed, “Sherlock and I both inherited Mummy’s hair texture and her eyes; Sherlock’s hair was closer to my color as an infant, but darkened to father’s shade rather quickly… I, sadly, look more like our father, but with Mummy’s hair color.”

John shrugged, “Well, people see what they expect to see. Sherlock always points that out on cases.”

“Now, speaking of that… how is this working out with Omega Jim being–”

“Mrs. Holmes,” Jim said, wincing.

“Mummy,” Mrs. Holmes said firmly.

“Mummy,” he amended, “PLEASE just call me Jim, or James, or anything but that.”

“Not call you…” Mummy looked concerned and finally asked, “You had a prior bad relationship that makes that difficult?”

“Which I would prefer to shoot myself before discussing, yes,” Jim said with a pleasant smile. Mycroft was wincing painfully.

Sherlock sighed, “When you’ve spent your life trying to be a Beta or an Alpha–and, in some cases, risking your life if it was found out you were an Omega–the title tends to have… baggage.”

Anthea looked around and said, “I assume there is a deck of cards, or a board game, or perhaps some books that aren’t miles over our heads that John and I can run off with while you have some of this discussion in a bit more privacy?”

“I’m afraid I assumed that the two of you were rather deeply involved, dear,” said Mummy.

John looked up, “Despite the fact that I was living there, and his doctor, I had NO IDEA he was an Omega until he told me–after the phone call from you–so I expect there is a lot–”

Mummy’s eyes went wide and she turned to stare at Sherlock. “What?!” she sputtered. “I assumed you would have told–”

Sherlock sighed, “No one. I told NO one. I’ve been found out a few times–and apparently at least one time I wasn’t aware of–but the closest to ‘telling anyone’ was a doctor who treats Omegas and gets suppressants under the table. I never told anyone.”

Mummy suddenly looked much smaller and sadder. “Oh, Sherlock…” She abruptly excused herself and went out.

“Well, that went well,” Sherlock muttered, stabbing his fork into a vegetable with more vigor than was warranted.

“Better than my house.” Sebastian shrugged.

“Damn sight better than mine growing up,” John sighed.

Jim raised an eyebrow, “What on earth was wrong with yours?” he asked John.

“Alcoholism runs in the family. It was pretty miserable.” John shrugged, “That, and… I inherited the long fuse from my mother’s side of the family and the actual temper from my dad’s.” He raised an eyebrow back at Jim, “Much nicer in Afghanistan, really.”

Sherlock and Mycroft exchanged quick glances: _Yes, he was absolutely telling the truth._

Mummy came back in. “Terribly sorry… Anthea? John? The entertainment center should be quite set up and of course feel free to browse the library. I’ll have Martha show you around: I believe that private discussion shall best take place in my sitting room.”

Anthea and John escaped with the maid. _Traitors_ , thought Jim, and then admitted, _Not really: I would have run too if I could have._

 _That makes two of us,_ Mycroft sighed along the link.

Mummy Holmes sitting room had some features of an office–the computer desk, the files, and the phone–and many elements one associated with television historical dramas that involved delicate noblewomen discussing marriages. The only one of them that sat on the fragile-looking chairs without caution was Jim.

“Alright, Sherlock,” Mummy said, “you first: why didn’t you tell anyone after your father died?”

Sherlock sighed. “What do you think was likely to happen if anyone found out I was an Omega? Even with father gone I would have been expected to find some well-connected Alpha who would want me to stay at home and… rot!” Sherlock snarled the last word.

Mummy looked thoughtfully at Sebastian, “You seem to have found one who doesn’t bother you…”

“I have no idea how Jim found him, but he’s exceptional and I highly doubt I would have met him under other circumstances. I was perfectly happy being married to my work and had no intentions of Bonding–ever.”

“Which does bring me to the difficulties that Lord Moran is… not one of my favorite people.”

“I believe you mispronounced ‘a complete bastard’, Ma’am,” Sebastian said politely–which caused Sherlock to grin and Jim to snort.

Much to Sebastian’s surprise, Mummy flashed a rather sharp grin, “No, I didn’t: I wasn’t being that mild.”

Jim murmured, “I see where you get that,” to Mycroft. Mycroft just nodded at him.

“My father wanted me to marry some socially advantageous catch before I went off on tour, and then, when that went badly, he became furious at me for ruining our chances at marrying me off properly.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, “Like I wanted anything to do with any of those…” he paused and clearly restrained himself a bit, “painted shells.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “I wonder if Father was introducing me to the same Omegas. They sound of a type.”

Sebastian looked thoughtfully at Mycroft, “Vapid, empty-headed houseplants with shopping addictions?”

“The very same.”

Sherlock grumbled, “They aren’t all, but that did seem to be the sort Father brought home.”

“Ahem,” Mummy said quietly but firmly. “Very well, Alpha Sebastian isn’t inclined to take after his father’s tastes, but… Let me make something very clear, Alpha: I understand that Sherlock can be quite difficult, but I will not put up with anyone treating my boys with anything less than respect.” She glanced at Sherlock, “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make him eat or sleep on a regular schedule, you understand–he needs more discipline in his life.”

Sherlock snorted. “The last thing I need is any more ‘discipline’, Mummy, and if Sebastian takes a belt to me it will be the last thing he ever does.”

Mummy closed her eyes in a pained fashion and Mycroft winced. “That isn’t what I meant, dear.” Mummy said quietly.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, “With all due respect, and apologies for the mixed company, I found certain forms of aggressive positive reinforcement to be far more effective.” Sherlock turned utterly scarlet and started sputtering; Mycroft’s mouth dropped open and he found himself completely at a loss for words; Jim started snickering and imagining various sex acts until Mycroft started blushing and trying to shut down the link with a hissed _That’s my BROTHER_ on the link.

Mummy tried to look scandalized and failed, she finally snickered and stated, “Well, if it works…”

“Mummy!” Sherlock started to say more, but Sebastian was smirking at him and, even with their less conversational link, Sherlock realized he was going to lose this one: he shut up.

Mummy cleared her throat, “Just making it clear that arguments and disagreements are normal, but I won’t tolerate abuse.”

“I have no intentions of being abusive, Ma’am… I know I didn’t have the best example growing up so… I would hope that if I was being an ass someone would tell me.”

Mycroft sighed, “Which sadly brings it around to me. I’m afraid I was very abusive.” Mycroft was staring down at the carpet, “Not intentionally, but a combination of ignorance and… poor behavior.”

“I need this explained,” Mummy said firmly. She did note that they hadn’t let go of each other’s hands except as needed, and even now their fingers were interlaced, which did seem to be a sign that it wasn’t unduly bad.

Jim spoke up, “Well, I was in interrogation and my suppressants failed. Mycroft walked into a nose full of pheromones and–”

Mummy stared at him in utter horror, “Interrogation?! Mycroft, you interrogate OMEGAS?!”

“Certainly NOT, Mummy! We had no idea he was an Omega,” Mycroft said very stiffly. “He never said anything, and it never occurred to anyone… Anyway, as he said, his suppressants failed, people were acting oddly–Betas, of course–and I went in to find out what was going on…”

Sherlock intervened, “Neither of them was initially very happy about it, but by the time Mycroft brought him to see me… they both refused my help in breaking the Bond. Unfortunately, Mycroft didn’t appear to believe the level of Bond they had, nor that Jim’s emotions were genuine… and neither of them trusted the other, for obvious reasons.”

Mummy sat back in her chair and put a hand to her forehead; eventually she sighed, “So… Mycroft… what are your intentions at this point?”

“I am trying to make up for being unwittingly cruel.” Mycroft sighed, “Apparently I’m doing a terrible job at it, but I am trying.” He finally looked up at Mummy and continued, “Since Jim didn’t know he WAS an Omega until his first Heat and he was Bonded–”

Mummy made an appalled squeaking noise.

“Precisely. A great deal of anything he could be tried for can be easily erased. Add to that the fact that he is Bonded to a gentleman, and…”

“I see. Yes, legally that’s going to be settled, if… difficult.” She frowned and looked at Jim, “We shall have to spin it as a romantic fairy tale: the tormented Omega thrust into a life of crime, and then rescued. Everyone will love it.”

Jim made a face, “I’m sure it will go over quite well, but I would prefer not.”

“I learned a long time ago, dear, that sometimes pretending to be as weak as people think will get you further than showing your strength,” Mummy nodded primly, “and everyone loves a fairy tale.”

“True enough,” Jim admitted, “but I hate it–I’m used to being the villain.”

Mummy smiled, and it was a delightfully wicked smile, “There is nothing people love more than a reformed villain, dear–it’s still a fairy tale.”

Jim started to smile back at her despite himself. _Really, Mycroft, I LIKE her…_

“We need to not only be able to control the public release of information, for both Sherlock and Jim, but we need to be prepared for any questions that may come up.” Mycroft sighed, “The problem is that none of us have a very good grounding in factual information about Omegas, except possibly Sherlock…”

“Biology and statistics,” Sherlock shrugged.

“I know a great deal about Omegas,” Jim grumbled. “OTHER Omegas.”

“Well, yes…” Mummy nodded. “Given that ‘Please Jim fix it for me’ is rather a legend in our social set, I expect you know a great deal about other Omegas–I just didn’t expect you to BE one.”

 


	30. Won't you come on over baby...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course an Omega couldn’t have anything to do with the death of their Alpha– even an abusive one– but I have certainly seen a number of suspicious deaths of abusive Alphas. I usually assume an Alpha family member or even an unrelated Alpha whose protective nature got the better of them.”– A widely reported, but unconfirmed, comment by the Chief Inspector of New Scotland Yard.

Jim slowly smiled while Mycroft and Sherlock stared at Mummy in complete blank confusion.

“Uh… he is?” Sebastian asked slowly. “I didn’t know your social set hired a lot of consulting criminals.”

Mummy nodded politely and opened an old fashioned Rolodex to “F” and peeled out a rather elegant card that read “Jim Fix-It, General Contractor” and contact information.

Mycroft stared in disbelief. “Mummy?!”

“Your Alpha was long gone by the time I set up shop, of course,” Jim said softly.

Sherlock was staring at the card. “Why does Mummy have a business card for you?”

Mummy raised an eyebrow. “Jim Fix-It is an expensive, but not overly so, solution to an abusive Alpha… assuming you can bring yourself to hire him. Many Omegas can act against their Alpha remotely, even if not directly, and he has a reputation for it being… quick.” Mummy nodded at Jim. “I’ve referred several people to you and it has always been managed rather painlessly.”

Mycroft was slowly tracking from Mummy to Jim. “You… referred…” _Mummy? Dealt with YOU?!_

Jim shook his head, “No, Mycroft, she never dealt with me, only had my contact information to hand out to other Omegas.”

Sherlock abruptly snorted, “Oh, aren’t we a pair.”

“Pardon?” Mummy asked.

“I have several times helped Omegas escape from abusive family lives, or arranged Bondings… and Jim has apparently been arranging to shoot troublesome Alphas–”

“At a discount, usually,” Jim nodded, “although the leverage it affords in the future is sometimes useful.”

Mycroft slowly closed his eyes. “Why didn’t you have me shot then?”

Jim sighed, “I… I wanted to… but I wanted you to… I wanted you to like me more. I rather figured I would have you shot once the Bond faded from separation.” Desperate longing, and the utter self-hatred Jim had felt, snaked along the Bond.

“You should have shot me,” Mycroft said quietly, and the pain on the link was nearly unbearable.

Sherlock and Sebastian sat uncomfortably while Mummy frowned at the two of them.

“Mycroft?” Mummy sighed. “I think I need to know a bit more, but–given that you are regretful, and your Omega hasn’t let go of your hand–I can only assume it isn’t as bad as you think.” She paused. “Especially given his… contracting work.”

Jim looked up tiredly, “We… got off to a rather awful start, as I said, Mummy, but… Sherlock was right: I can’t imagine how we could have found anyone better suited.” He held up his hand–the other one still intertwined with Mycroft’s–“But we both… we both have a lot of issues. A lot.”

“Yes… Well, given how terribly things went at home…” Mummy dabbed at her eyes carefully and started to get out a small perfume roller.

Jim detangled his hand, leaned forward and plucked it out of her grip before she could react. “Don’t, please. Mycroft has a rather traumatic response to that scent.”

“What?” Mummy startled and looked at Mycroft, who was rubbing his forehead in a pained fashion.

“He isn’t the only one,” Sherlock sighed.

“Missing something here… again… as usual…” rumbled Sebastian as he pulled Sherlock a bit closer.

“Mummy has a perfume with a scent blocker built in that is designed to cover the smell of distressed Omega. I never discussed it with Mycroft, but the scent is rather strongly associated in me with depression and a desire to get a shot of heroin.” Sherlock said quietly.

Mummy’s mouth was dropping open in a silent gasping ‘O’ when Mycroft added, “The house smelled of it, constantly, whenever Father was home: despair and flowers.”

Sebastian rather abruptly growled and stood up, pulling Sherlock up with him. Sherlock looked startled and started to protest until Sebastian pulled him in close and started growling next to his ear: _protect, kill the threat, an overwhelming desire to rip Sherlock’s father, and his own, into pieces_. Sherlock relaxed back into him and started to purr.

Jim stared at them in shock. Mycroft stared at them in shock. Mummy started to giggle…

“Oh, that’s so sweet!”

Sherlock’s thoughts cleared enough to flush. “I think we need...”

Mummy made shooing gestures and Sebastian scooped Sherlock up and carried him out of the room, growling protectively the entire time.

Jim hadn’t managed to say anything yet when Mycroft finally managed to sputter, “What on earth…?”

Mummy giggled, “It’s so sweet to see an Alpha getting that protective of their Omega… and I expected Sherlock would bristle–you know he does–but he PURRED at him…” She dabbed at her eyes again, this time rather happily.

“Is that what happened?” Jim asked slowly. “Alphas growling usually means they’re… angry.”

Mummy just reached out and patted Jim’s hand. “I think… Mycroft? I think there are a few things that need to be discussed just between Omegas… Can you manage?”

Mycroft looked cautiously at Jim. _Is it okay?_

Jim nodded, “I like her, Mycroft, and…” _I never was afraid of another Omega, Mycroft–it’s alright._

_Call if you need anything._

_Chill… Iceman…_ Jim smirked at him.

Mycroft smiled wryly and went out.

~

“This is… odd,” Jim said finally as he nibbled on some–excellent, really–little pastries.

“What is? Or, perhaps I should say, which is?”

Jim laughed, “Alright, point. Lots of things… I meant being able to talk to another Omega.”

Mummy looked thoughtfully at him, “You… really couldn’t, could you? Even to the Omega you dealt with…”

“I didn’t meet many in person, honestly, too risky.” He shrugged. “But when I did, I was always a Beta, or… Sherlock thought I was an Alpha, and I thought he was.”

Mummy giggled, “I thought Sherlock overdid it, you know, trying so hard to be an Alpha instead of a Beta… Compensating, you know.” The smile faded. “He kept it a secret this whole time…”

“It’s ironic, you know… we both did. I always said we were alike.” Jim shook his head, “He must have wanted to tell me so much when he found out about me.”

“Is… Is my boy treating you well? He’s always been such a sensitive young man, especially for an Alpha… his father–“

“Treated him horribly, I know.” Jim sighed. “He… He tried to treat me well, I suppose, given that he didn’t expect… didn’t want…” Jim found to his horror he was crying and dug his nails into his palm. “After… After things went wrong he’s been… he’s been much better.”

Mummy handed him a handkerchief, “No, he never wanted to Bond,” she said sadly, “not after… not after the example he grew up with. I must say, I am glad it was you.”

“What?”

“I am a practical woman, my dear, for reasons I am sure you understand.” She smiled faintly. “I tried to warn Anthea, poor girl. While an Omega can manage perfectly well without an Alpha in many cases, I never felt the reverse was true: most Alphas NEED a mate–they need it.” She poured tea for them both and gathered her thoughts while Jim pulled himself together.

“Eventually, Mycroft would have accepted a Bonding contract–for political reasons, if nothing else–and that would have been a disaster.”

“He knew nothing about us–nothing,” Jim managed to say. “He didn’t even realize what he was feeling was our Bond, did you know?” Jim tried to smile. “Thought he was imagining it, or that the hormones were just mucking him up.”

“Oh, dear…” Mummy closed her eyes in a pained fashion and then sipped her tea in silence for a while. “Can… Can you even imagine what would have happened if… if he’d Bonded some… political asset?”

Jim suddenly saw it–probably more clearly than she could: _Mycroft closing himself off, more and more. His Omega being distressed at the lack of contact, Mycroft staying away to avoid the scent of unhappiness…. A worsening circle of ice and misery…_ Jim suddenly whined deep in the back of his throat and shuddered.

~

Mycroft paced out in the living room, worrying. _What if Mummy didn’t like him? What if… What if she thought I was awful?_

 _You ARE awful,_ he hissed at himself.

He tried desperately to calm himself and settle–all of which ended when he heard his Omega crying out.

He honestly didn’t remember how he got there but he was gathering his Omega up in his arms– _too thin, still much too frail_ –and trying to find out what was wrong…

“Mycroft?” he vaguely heard a voice while he was trying to reassure his Omega.

_I’m here, I’m here, you’re safe…_

His Omega licked his neck and settled into his arms.

~

John was currently trying to regain his dignity–and his pretzels; Anthea was a card shark–when Mummy Holmes walked in. He stood up.

“Mrs. Holmes.”

“Mummy Holmes,” Anthea said nodding. “Is there a problem?”

Mummy laughed slightly, “I haven’t dealt with new Bonds in so long… Sherlock and his Alpha are, I think, up in his room… and Mycroft and his Omega are rather curled up in my sitting room.”

“Is anything wrong?” John asked worriedly. “Jim is still rather frail.”

“He was distressed, and Mycroft charged in to take care of him–it’s terribly sweet.”

“Oh… Uh… And Sherlock?”

“He was upset, and I think sad, and we were talking about my husband… and Sebastian decided he needed to be taken away from the ‘threat’.” She sat down at the table with them.

“Oh,” Anthea cleared her throat. “Is that usual?”

“Oh, my dear, there is a reason that newly Bonded couples usually go on a lengthy honeymoon retreat: initially, Alphas are rather… protective, you see.” She smiled. “It’s a good sign, actually: they were both focused on their Omegas, but not threatening anyone or… or being… unpleasant.”

John frowned faintly, “So… a sort of territoriality and nesting? I read about that.”

“Yes, basically.” She smiled at them both. “So, do you play Rummy?”

John nodded and they handed around a new pile of pretzels and started a new game. He rapidly decided that he was an embarrassment to his regiment and was lucky it was JUST pretzels. At least Anthea was doing almost as badly.

Mummy gathered up the pot of pretzels and dealt the next hand. “Don’t feel badly my dears: I’m the one who taught Mycroft and Sherlock to count cards.”


	31. I'll never miss a beat, I'm lightning on my feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Feral Alpha’s are routinely taken down from a distance with tranquilizer darts. The only other option is to send in an Omega to calm them down and… well you can imagine that isn’t often a good idea. In any event if there is any question about an Alpha going feral we usually sedate them for safety reasons.   
> God help us if they’re defending their Omega, though; you usually have to double or triple the dose.”–Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade to a class of new MET employees

Mummy had food sent in to the two bonded couples, and pried the details of the last several– _God it was only days?_ – out of the two of them: politely, with tea.

John and Anthea–and Mummy–fully well expected that the next thing they would be dealing with would be two rather embarrassed pairs making their way out to a meal.

Instead, the next thing was a trio of black cars pulling up outside the Holmes estate.  John frowned and a hand went for his pistol–he noted Anthea doing the same.  When the personage in charge got out to be escorted to the door, Anthea snarled:

“Oh that bloody bastard–he knows Mycroft is on vacation, and that his Bondmate is ill.”

“Isn’t this one of Mycroft’s associates, dear?” Mummy asked.

“Yes.  One of the ones who gave us the most trouble over Jim and before that was always oozing around for a chance to move up.”

“I see.”  Mummy smiled frostily and went to the door.

“I wasn’t expecting company.” Mummy said, very firmly, standing in the doorway.

“I’m here to see Mister Holmes.”  The man sniffed.

“Which one?” Mummy raised an eyebrow.

“Mycroft Holmes. If you’ll excuse me,” he tried to push past her and she didn’t budge an inch.

“Are you honestly trying to break into an Omega’s home?  A widowed Omega?”  Mummy said loudly enough to be heard by the guards and drivers and assistants.

“Certainly not, just take me to Mycroft Holmes, and–”

“You have not asked permission to enter MY home, young man!” Mummy’s voice was a whipcrack.

John was trying to move forward and one of Mummy’s guards grabbed him back. “Not until the missus says so, sir.”

“I’ll kill him.” John grumbled.

He was arguing with her, demanding, yelling–she stood there impassively as if she couldn’t hear him.

“Leave.” She said very, very quietly, “or I will kill you.”

John’s head snapped up and so did Anthea’s–there was a quiet certainty that they both recognized.

He tried to push past her again, and when his hands touched her she…

…Screamed was entirely the wrong word, John later decided.  There was a sliding noise that went up, and up, and up and he had to make it stop and he had to kill the threat and it had to stop and he had to kill and he had to stop and oh godSTOP…

It stopped.

John found himself on his knees, holding his head and slowly looked up… there were bloody gobbets where the man had been, and blood smeared mess all around the doorway… Mummy Holmes was being escorted back into the house by Sherlock–who looked gleeful and violent– and Jim, who looked… mad, that was the only word for it.

Mycroft and Sebastian were standing on the doorstep covered in blood–Sebastian covered in glass as well… so were several of the men who had come up with the bastard… the rest were cowering behind the cars.

John distantly remembered hearing a roar from inside the house before he had collapsed.

After that it was all a blur of ambulances and coroners and deferential, “Can you make a statement yet Madame Omega Holmes?”

He looked at Anthea at one point and caught her eye and knew she didn’t have a clue either.

…

John had given his statement and for some reason the medical people–and since when was MORS a medical patch?–had given him a drug and… well he felt much calmer now even if it was sort of… fuzzy.

He blinked at Anthea slowly, who also looked a bit… fuzzy.

“Maybe a nap?”

“Sure.” She nodded slowly. “nap.”

They fell asleep curled up  in bed together–at least they remembered to take off their shoes.

~

Mycroft came up from the sedative with his Omega curled up on his chest.  _Had someone hurt him?  Someone… someone had hurt him… he … no? Mummy?_

Mycroft ached and his hands hurt and… ow.

“Everyone is alright, Mycroft, but I’m tired.” Jim’s voice was in his head and his ears and he curled protectively around him and tried to shut the world out.

~

Sebastian blinked awake suddenly because _Jim was in danger! And… and Sherlock! And…_

Sherlock pressed him down by the back of his neck, “I’m fine, you’re an idiot Alpha, but that was insanely sexy, and Mummy is a manipulative bitch but I suppose that’s where we get it from.”

There were little pricks of pain here and there. “What?”

“I’m pulling glass out of you; I already did your front.”

“Is… everyone ok?”

“Yes, every one of ours is quite alright.”

Sebastian didn’t quite understand it, but it didn’t matter; his Omega was taking care of his wounds so he just went back to sleep.

~

John was woken by a polite knock at the door, at which point he realized that Anthea and he were both fully dressed and rather tangled…

“We were sedated.” Anthea said finally. “I remember that.”

“Sir? Miss?  Mrs. Holmes is asking if you can come down to get food and help to report…”

“Yes, one moment.” John called back. They both got themselves somewhat pulled together and came downstairs.

Mummy was there, impeccably dressed and coiffed, sipping tea.

Mycroft was there fussing over Jim–who looked more charmed than annoyed for a change– and trying to make him eat.  There was a buffet table of food and tea and coffee.

“Sherlock not up yet?” John asked.

“Likely still being convinced to come down.” Mummy said politely.

“Good bloody luck.” John muttered.

At that point a despicably awake and alert looking Sherlock came in with a bewildered looking Sebastian trailing after him. “Good morning.”

Mummy smiled happily, “Oh good, well everyone should get their food, because we have to tell some officials what happened.”

Sherlock smirked, “My Alpha was magnificent and if they hadn’t sedated him I would have properly rewarded him, that’s what happened.”

Jim muttered something darkly about “Mine first.”

“Oh don’t start,” Sherlock snorted, “Mycroft held his own.”

“I still don’t quite understand?” John sighed.

“It will all be clear soon, dear.” Mummy nodded, “get your breakfast.”

~

Three uniformed people came in: two male and one female.  Their uniforms had patches with “MORS” on them and Anthea noticed that the brothers, and Jim, reacted negatively in some fashion–only Jim seemed hostile, Sherlock mostly seemed sullen and Mycroft, well Mycroft looked guilty.

“Wait… Ministry of Omega Rights and Safety?” Anthea suddenly realized, “I’ve heard of that… what you are doing here?”

“There was an incident and we are the official agency charged with investigating it, Ma’am.” The woman said politely, her voice was very pleasant. “You are?  In fact we should begin by getting everyone’s identity on record.”

“I’m Jane Anthea Saunders– I use Anthea– and I work for Mycroft Holmes.”

“Your name is Jane?” John blinked at her.

“I never use it.” Anthea smiled.

The woman asked politely, “Your secondary gender? For the record?”

“Beta.” Anthea nodded.

“I’m Doctor John Watson, Last rank of Captain RAMC, Beta.”

One of the two men spoke up, “Watson?  Oh, you were in that fight with the ARA people outside of… Good heavens!  You’re Sherlock Holmes!”  He snapped his attention to Sherlock–all three of them did in fact.

“Oh!” the woman startled, “Oh the same family…” she glanced at Mummy, “Mrs. Holmes, you’re an Omega… oh!”

Sherlock sighed, “May as well get this over with.”  He winced, “William Sherlock Scott Holmes, Registered Beta–I’m an Omega and this is my Alpha.”

All three of the native Holmes family winced at the babble of voices and exclamations.  Eventually the shock and commentary settled back down.

“You… were not known to be an Omega?” one of the men said in confusion typing into his computer.

“My son hid the fact that he was an Omega.” Mummy said quietly, “Because my husband was highly abusive.  He threw Sherlock out of the house for being a Beta, and I was not permitted to see him.”

John startled, “You weren’t permitted?” he had trouble picturing anyone telling Mrs. Holmes what to do.

Jim spoke up, “You’re a Beta, you don’t understand.  A bonded Omega is trapped–their Alpha can do anything to them: I should know.”

Mycroft carefully put his arm around Jim. “Mycroft Julian Holmes, senior family Alpha after the death of my father.  This is my Omega, James Moriarty–he is a found Omega and I am his second Alpha: his first was… abusive, and criminal. I am in the process of clearing any potential charges against him.”

“Your Omega is unwell.” The other man said, with a frown.

Jim looked up at him, “I was not known to be an Omega–I was not admitting to be an Omega–I was placed in a cell and we bonded because he walked into a cloud of Omega pheromones.” Jim curled further into Mycroft, “I ran away… and got sick. They tell me I went into heat and… Doctor Watson helped stabilize me.”  _That’s our story and we’re sticking to it Mycroft._

 _Certainly._ Mycroft was grateful for everything he left out, but guilty. “Doctor Melton and Doctor Watson helped treat him when he was found: he was unconscious for three days… when we were able to travel safely I came to my home… both to introduce him to my mother and for our long delayed bonding retreat.”  Mycroft nodded at Sherlock and Sebastian, “as did they.”

“I thought he was with Watson.” One of the MORS agents muttered.

“I thought he was an Alpha.” The other man shrugged, “Very well, who was witness to what happened?”

“We haven’t gotten everyone on record yet, Laurence,” the woman sighed.

“Oh, sorry… we have Mrs. Holmes already…” he looked up, “Alpha?” at Sebastian.

“John Sebastian Augustus Moran, Colonel. Registered Alpha, SAS.” He glanced over, “currently assigned to Mycroft Holmes.”  He shrugged, “Bonded to Omega Sherlock here.”

The MORS agent not named Laurence stared at them both, “Um… your Omega beats up Alpha Rights Activists, I suppose you’d better be SAS.”

Sherlock and Sebastian both laughed. Sebastian grabbed Sherlock and pulled him in, Kissing his temple he said, “what him?” Sebastian smirked, “sweet, submissive Sherlock?”

Sherlock elbowed him in the ribs. “Watch it, you: they’re MORS they might believe you.”

John raised a hand, “I was down here and witnessed everything up until… uh… Mrs. Holmes… uh.. .screamed?  But I have a question…”

“yes?”

“MORS?”  John frowned, “Doesn’t that have something to do with Omega prisoners in a warzone?”

“It is the Ministry Of Omega Rights and Safety, Doctor,” Laurence answered, “We have jurisdiction in a lot of cases involving Omegas… and Alphas for that matter. While traditionally we do not reveal our secondary gender, I am a Beta, Thomas here is an Alpha, and Janice is an Omega.”

Sherlock snapped his head over at her, “I wasn’t aware MORS had Omega field agents?”

She frowned, “We have for… almost twelve years now, Omega– Holmes… er…”

“Sherlock.” He said firmly. “You have?”

“Yes. Not outside of England of course–not in a war zone or military zone, although there are a handful of bonded pairs…”

Thomas, the Alpha MORS agent cleared his throat, “Right. Can the two Beta witnesses please tell us what you observed?”

John and Anthea did their best.  John left out the part about Mummy Holmes threatening to kill the man, so did Anthea, but he emphasized how many times she had rebuffed him and that he laid hands on her.

“Then… uh... like I said… she… made a noise I can’t really describe and… I had to stop it and kill someone and… I kind of woke up on the floor and the asshole–I mean Mycroft’s colleague– was… er… it looked like a bomb had gone off and Sherlock and Jim were helping Mrs. Holmes in and… Mycroft and Sebastian were covered in blood and Sebastian was covered in glass.”

Anthea gave about the same account.

“Do either of you recall anything?” Thomas asked Sebastian and Mycroft, “And may I add you two are being remarkably social under these conditions.”

Sebastian shrugged, “I was upstairs with Sherlock, then… I was getting a shower? And covered in blood?  I think… I think someone was in danger?” he looked at Sherlock and then back, “maybe you should ask Sherlock.”

Mycroft looked over, “I was in Mummy’s study with my bondmate. I heard mummy scream and went feral.  I charged out and found a truly annoying colleague of mine attempting to intrude into my territory with my injured bondmate”

All three MORS agents gasped.

“He had grabbed my Mother and was… possibly hurting her.  She was screaming so I attempted to kill him.” he tilted his head to the side, “I had just ripped his arm off when Sebastian jumped through the second floor window and landed next to him.  We rather inefficiently tore him apart.”

Mycroft looked over calmly, “the Alpha guards with him luckily reacted properly and had already begun retreating I think–judging from what John said probably when they realized he was trying to intrude into an Omega Matriarch’s home.”

“You… were coherent?” Thomas asked dubiously.

“At the time? Not in the slightest: I simply remember it now that I am thinking about it–the Holmes family is noted for our observation and memory talents.”

Sherlock grinned, “Sebastian did, in fact, throw himself through the window.  I chased down the stairs–bare feet and glass doesn’t mix.”

Mrs. Holmes smiled politely, “There will be security records of my telling him it was my home and that I was a widowed Omega…”

Anthea spoke up, “he was informed that Jim was ill and Mister Holmes was bringing his bondmate here, if that’s important.” Mycroft flashed her a grateful smile.

Janice stood up, “well that’s certainly everything.”

Laurence nodded. “Sorry to trouble you, all of you.” he glanced at Sherlock, “You’re an Omega…I don’t think there even IS a betting pool for that…”

Thomas poked him in the ribs, “Yes, well, apologies for intruding. I do advise both bond pairs to spend extra time in seclusion to recover.  I think I should be going before my scent neutralizer gives up.”

They left, much to the shock of apparently everyone except Mummy and Mycroft Holmes, and Sebastian–who was grinning as soon as they left.

“I jumped out the window?”

“Yes dear,” Mummy nodded, “it was quite impressive, Sherlock thought so–if you hadn’t been sedated…”

John sighed, “At the risk of sounding like Greg: I STILL don’t understand?  That’s it? No investigation? No… trial even for defense?”

Mycroft looked around, “No.  an intruder attempted to harm the senior Omega, and in addition intruded into the nests of two newly bonded Alphas–one of whom has a sick Omega.  Mummy, the matriarch Omega, screamed and the two of us went feral.”

Mummy smiled pleasantly and quietly over her teacup, “I made certain to get it on record that he knew I was a widowed Omega, he knew an Alpha was in residence, and that he did not have permission to touch me or enter my home.”  She was the very picture of innocent gentility.

Jim slowly turned his head, “That’s… you… you deliberately triggered feral defensive Alpha behavior?”

She looked up, amused light colored eyes meeting dark eyes over her tea cup.

“One uses the weapons one has… family Alphas included.”

Sebastian looked around and then at Jim, “Well Sir… looks like you may have been trying to recruit the wrong Holmes…”

Jim just nodded slowly, looking at Mrs. Holmes while Mycroft had the disconcerting feeling of admiration on the bond link.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Quadrille](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679324) by [fabricdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon)




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